


Harmless Experiment

by BeautyKiller



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Porn, Bottom Harry, Boys In Love, Cheating, Deepthroating, Depression, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Excessive Drinking, Explicit Sexual Content, Infidelity, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Powerful Harry, Rimming, Rough Sex, Secret Relationship, Self-Hatred, Size Kink, Top Ron Weasley, hung ron
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:35:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27252031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautyKiller/pseuds/BeautyKiller
Summary: As Ron's wedding to Hermione looms closer, Harry deals with the painful aftermath of a harmless experiment gone wrong.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 84
Kudos: 182





	1. Chapter 1

Harry was pouring two fingers of firewhiskey when he felt large warm hands wrap around his naked chest like a vice. They stroked his abs and moved upwards sensually to flick his nipples. Warm breath caressed his neck accompanied by a soft sigh. He hadn't felt these hands around him all weekend and feeling them around him now brought equal parts frustration and relief. He'd been tense all weekend thinking of where these hands had been, what they've seen, and what skin they've touched besides his own. The latter thought made his whole body tense. 

"I didn't hear you come in." 

A gruff grunt in reply. Those hands continued to wander greedily as the body behind him stepped closer to lay soft kisses on his neck and shoulder, a stiff clothed rod poking his backside. Harry resented the stirring of his own arousal in response. It seemed that the man's proximity alone was enough to get him hard and leaking. Harry's tension began draining out of him despite himself and he tilted his head aside to allow more access to those sweet forbidden kisses. The man behind him took the invitation and leaned forward, throwing his shaggy red head in candlelight as he kissed and sucked along his neck with greater fervor. Harry wasn't breathing properly, taking short labored gusts of air which caused a feeling of light headedness. He refused to give in so easily and took a large breath through his nose. 

That's when Harry smelled it, Hermione's floral perfume. 

Harry stiffened and instantly stepped away from him, moving to the parlor couch. As he watched the fire in the hearth crackling, he sipped his firewhiskey contemplating the inherent fucked up state of their unsatisfactory situation. He hated Ron more and more these days, but not as much as he hated himself. He was fucking his best mate and fucking over his other best mate. As many times as he tried to stop, he'd always go back to him. He'd never in his life felt so wretched and like a failure. Sometimes it became too much for Harry and after a particularly nasty row, they'd go weeks without touching each other, but eventually one of them caved, usually Ron, and Harry was simply too weak to resist him. _Pathetic._

"How was your weekend with your fiancé, then?" 

Ron didn't answer right away, but Harry could feel his face reddening to match his hair. He didn't even have to look at him to know. 

"Fine." His voice was quiet, regretful even. 

"Did you two like the venue for the...wedding?" The last word Harry choked out. He was going for a casual tone but he wavered at the end. 

Ron sighed deeply. "It was good enough." 

Harry snapped back. "Good. I'm happy for you. It seems a congratulations are in order." Harry locked eyes with Ron, held up his glass to him in a mock toast, and kicked back the whole thing in one gulp. He slammed his glass down and got up to retire to his bedroom, a clawing at his chest that caused his eyes to water refusing to relent. 

"Harry..." 

Harry paused at his bedroom door, refusing to turn around. 

"Don't. Don't say anything. We can't do this anymore. You know it and I know it. So just stop." 

Harry could no longer count how many times he'd said these exact words. They felt hollow even now, but he meant it this time. He did. He was done. He was. 

He went into his room and slammed the door shut behind him. 

________________________________________________________________________________________

After showering, Harry got in his bed and slammed the covers over him as if they'd done him some harm. He took deep calming breaths and tried to focus on the pleasant sensation of the cold silk sheets and silk duvet on his naked body. But that only served to infuriate him because it was Ron who insisted he buy these, even though they were absurdly expensive. For someone who grew up dirt poor, he thought venomously, he has rather expensive taste. 

_Petty._ He hates that he had these vicious thoughts about his best mate, his first friend, his first and only family, really. Harry could never even imagine his life without Ron in it. He tried to, but he came up empty. He knew he would do anything for him as Ron would for Harry. That's what got them into this mess to begin with.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

After the war, the euphoria from finally defeating the dark lord faded fast. Harry was left feeling empty and frankly, a bit dead inside. He thought often of how his purpose of his life was essentially to die. He had fulfilled his purpose, yet lived still. What more was there? He didn't know how to just be Harry without fearing and loathing his mortal enemy. Somehow, he managed to survive, and that wasn't in the plan. He couldn't quite shake the feeling that he died on that fateful day, his soul left behind on the grounds of Hogwarts, along with the remnants of the dark lord. 

Harry wasn't nieve. He knew he was experiencing some form of severe depression after the war, and it killed Ron, as well as Hermione, to watch as he drown himself in firewhiskey and partying to dull the emptiness. He tried to make a go of it with Ginny, but he could never really stir up any interest. He chucked it off as a symptom of his depression and threw himself into a series of distractions.

He trained to become an auror successfully, Ron by his side, but his heart wasn't really in it. Still, he threw himself into it with vigor, training physically as well as mentally. He and Ron hit the gym together seven days a week. He grew into broader shoulders and a six pack but he was still far skinnier and shorter than Ron who grew into a red-haired toned beast of a man. Back then, Harry often looked at his body with envy. He would never be that big. Harry's body grew stronger and his auror skills sharpened. Still, he'd never felt more empty than on the day of their graduation because he hoped that this huge accomplishment and new purpose would bring him out of his stupor.

It didn't. 

So he spent his nights frequenting every muggle club in London, dancing and drinking with various women, but he could never muster the courage to bring them home with him, too embarrassed by his past attempts, his stubborn depression killing his arousal no matter how much he had to drink. 

Then, one night at a muggle club as he sulkily drank alone at the bar, refusing all women who approached him, a tall hulk of a man with sandy brown hair and blue eyes, not unlike Ron's, sat next him, ordering a whiskey and a refill on whatever Harry was having. Harry was a little surprised by the gesture, but welcomed the distraction. At least he wouldn't have to deal with sexual come ons, instead, having a nice conversation between men. 

They chatted a long time together and Harry found himself rather enjoying the conversation. When the man asked what he did for work, Harry told him that he was in law enforcement, a detective. 

"Oh, I could have guessed, you have the look." 

"What do you mean?" 

"You know, that hardened look. It's sexy. No wonder you keep getting approached." 

His blue eyes twinkled at him, and Harry laughed it off awkwardly, not thinking much of it, but always shy about his looks. He wasn't anything special. It was Ron who got most of the attention these days when they went to muggle clubs. He was the tall strapping one. 

After they chatted a while longer, Harry realized the late hour and told the man he better go as he has work tomorrow. The man said the same, and they walked out together through the back alley exit as Harry always did, since he needed to disapparate without anyone noticing. As the man walked one way, Harry said his house was the opposite way.

"I guess I'll see you around then," the man said. 

"Sure, I come here often. It was nice talking to you." And Harry meant it so he smiled widely for the first time in months as he held out his hand for a shake. 

The man grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him close, to Harry's surprise. 

"Are your eyes always this green?" 

Harry just blinked at him with wide eyes, not knowing where this was going. 

The man's face was getting closer and closer until finally, their lips connected. 

Harry was too shocked to respond, standing there like an immovable statue. All he kept thinking was _a bloke is kissing me, a bloke is kissing me._

Then the man deepened the kiss and his large warm hands began to wander his body, his chest and back pulling him close. Harry thought it was very strange, at first. This was the first time he was being kissed, as opposed to him doing the kissing. He felt like some sort of damsel. There was no mistaking that it was a man, his five o' clock stubble was scratching his face, but Harry found that he didn't mind the sensation all that much. Then his hand descended lower on his back until they cupped his bum and squeezed, eliciting a moan and a gasp from Harry causing them to part. Harry merely stared up at him while the man grinned and went in again, pushing Harry against the wall, swathing Harry's lithe body with his much larger one completely.

Harry felt completely overwhelmed, unable to decide whether he liked it or hated it. What he did know was that he was feeling _something_ and that was certainly a change. He couldn't help the strange mewling noises that were leaving his mouth as the man's mouth descended to kiss and suck his neck.

"You're so hard," the man whispered. 

Harry gasped and looked down, finally noticing that he was indeed sporting a massive erection. It was the first one he experienced with another person after the war. 

"Come home with me." 

Harry spluttered, pushing the man away. He tried to say something, apologize, make an excuse as to why he had to leave, but they were stuck in his throat. He couldn't speak, shocked as he was. So he did the only thing he could at the moment, he fled. The minute he turned the corner, he disapparated into the flat he and Ron shared. 

It was thankfully empty at the moment, Ron must have been at Hermione's this evening. O _h God, Ron. What will he think?_

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Ron's brother, Charlie, was gay, after all, and the family treated him the same as always. Besides, this was his best mate, he could tell him anything. It wasn't Ron's reaction that he feared so much as his own shame about the situation. He remembered his Aunt and Uncle's ample homophobic slurs against "the gays," citing them as freaks, an abomination against God, a group of people who deserved to be in prison lest they spread their disease. He knew, of course, that they were wrong, but he couldn't shake his own feeling of wrongness about the whole thing. Why did everything in his life have to always be so bloody complicated? 

Harry became withdrawn in the days that followed the experience. Ron, of course, noticed. At first, he let Harry stew a bit, but it eventually came to a head on the fifth day.

"Mate, what's going on with you?" 

"Nothing. I'm fine." 

Ron took a breath, contemplating his response. He got up and sat next to Harry throwing an arm around him. "You know you could tell me anything, right?" 

Ron's eyes softened on him and they reminded him of that man in the dark alley. 

Harry suddenly sprung to his feet and started pacing. 

"Ron, I need to tell you something." 

Ron watched him pace, increasingly worried. 

"Tell me." 

Harry was silent for a long time as Ron waited patiently. Finally he blurted out, "I think I might be gay." 

Ron sat, stunned, as Harry stared at him, waiting for his reaction, happy that at least, he hadn't recoiled in disgust. 

"Say something." 

Ron cleared his throat. "Okay...so you might be gay. Did something happen?"

Harry immediately launched into the story about the dark man in the alley, the feeling of being swathed by his larger body, about how he couldn't seem to get it up with women, about how weird it felt to be doing that with a stranger he couldn't trust. As he continued to explain, Harry became more and more distressed, sensing a hopelessness about the whole thing. He could never imagine doing anything with a muggle man whom he would have to lie to about his life. He certainly couldn't do anything with a wizard who would out him to the papers first chance he got. 

"I could imagine it now Ron. _The boy who lived...to suck cock._ It would be a catastrophe. This is so bloody hopeless. I don't know what to do. I don't even know for sure if I'm gay. I can't risk it with a wizard." His tone one of sheer panic as his pace became maddening, his hand clutched in his hair. 

Ron suddenly stood up and clasped Harry around his arms. 

"Take a breath mate. You're hyperventilating. It's going to be okay." 

Harry took a deep breath, inhaling Ron as he did, and the familiar scent smelled like home. He instantly began to relax. Ron dragged him down to sit next to him. 

He stared at Harry who had his head bowed looking so despondent, Ron hardly knew what to do, so he blurted the words he always did when it came to Harry. 

"How can I help?" 

Harry's head snapped to his steady gaze in shock. 

"What do you mean? You can't possibly be suggesting..." 

Ron hadn't thought it through all that much. He only knew he wanted to make Harry feel better. 

"It's not a big deal...What are best mates for?" He smiled. 

Harry chuckled nervously and averted his gaze. 

"But you're straight...aren't you?" 

"I am, but...it'll just be a bit of experimenting so you could figure yourself out. I don't see the harm in it. I can't watch you suffer like this." 

"I don't need your pity, Ron." 

Ron started to feel angry. He hated when Harry said that, and he said it often. It pissed him off. Didn't Harry realize how much Ron loved this miserable bloke, no matter what he did? He had followed Harry to the depths of hell and would do so again. This was nothing. So he didn't think much further than that as he grabbed Harry's arms to force him sideways to face him.

"It's not pity," and he kissed him. 

Harry was stunned yet again and moved back after a few tentative kisses. 

"Anything?"

Harry licked his lips. "I don't know." 

Ron's gaze held a determination as he kissed Harry again, dragging him down beneath him. Harry knew he should be weirded out by his best mate snogging him, but he couldn't think. He couldn't think. _He couldn't think_. Ron's tongue plunged in his mouth relentlessly. He was drowning, drowning under the heavy weight of Ron's larger body cloaking his own. They frotted against each other enthusiastically and kissed as if they were trying to get inside each other's very being. The both came in their pants in a matter of minutes.

Ron chuckled afterwards as he rolled off him. 

"I feel like a teenager at Hogwarts again." 

He looked at Harry who lay unmoving, eyes wide. 

"Allright?" 

Harry looked at him. "Yea..I think I am." He sat up and continued. 

"I don't want to make anything weird between us, Ron." 

"It won't be weird, unless you let it be. We're best mates Harry. If not me, then who? It's just a bit of harmless experimenting. So stop being so bloody worried all the time. I'm the last person you need to be worried about. I'm not going anywhere." He smiled warmly at him and Harry felt that warmth permeate his very bones. 

_________________________________________________________________________

 _Harmless experimenting,_ the vile thought reverberated in Harry's skull as he lay in his bed, trying to get to sleep in the present. He thought those were the most dangerous words Ron had ever uttered whether he meant to or not. Suddenly he was under a voracious attack of memories from the very beginning of their...sexual experimentation. He though of the first time he asked to suck Ron's cock, relishing the heavy weight of it in his mouth, the first time he asked Ron to fuck him, which he did, softly and tenderly.

After that incredible experience, Harry declared finally that yes, he was gay, for sure. He thought that would mark the end of their "experimenting" as it were, and it did, for a while at least. He was happy enough to have figured It out, happier still that their nighttime activities hadn't affected their friendship in the day. They still laughed and joked with each other like the best mates they always were. All along, Ron continued to date Hermione, "courted" more like. Their heterosexual relationship as unaffected by their nightly trysts as he and Harry's friendship. 

Then, one Friday night after a particularly brutal illegal potions case was finally cracked and closed, the two auror partners got fantastically sloshed at _the three broomsticks._ After they returned home, Ron wasted no time as he pushed Harry against the wall of their flat and snogged him within an inch of his life, grabbing his body everywhere with rough calloused hands. Harry all but melted under his touch, enjoying this more aggressive version of Ron. He was always soft and delicate with Harry prior to this. But alarm bells went off in his head after a few minutes of Ron's rough treatment. 

"Wait. Ron, you don't have to." 

Ron stared at him with hunger in his eyes, the blues of his irises obliterated to black. 

"I want to." 

He dragged Harry to the bedroom and threw him on the bed before descending on top of him in full assault like a predator descending on its prey. He frantically tore his clothes off in sheer desperation. When they were both fully naked, Ron kissed him deep and hard, biting his lips, his neck, his nipples, squeezing his cock roughly, pulling on his balls harshly. Harry couldn't help moaning uncontrollably even though it felt like he was under attack. It still felt indescribably good. _Was this some sort of punishment? The price he had to pay?_ Then Ron turned him abruptly to lie flat on his stomach. After casting a quick preparation charm he learned just for Harry, he slid into him all the way to the hilt as Harry cried out in pleasure-pain. Ron fucked him so hard that night, that the bed frame shattered the glass of the window pane. Harry could do nothing but _take,_ _take, take,_ girly moans escaping him in bursts as he tried and failed to hold them back. Ron clawed at his back, his shoulders, his ass, to get closer, deeper, driving into him harder. His animalistic grunts and moans accompanied the obscene sound of flesh slapping flesh until they culminated in the most intense orgasm of Harry's life. He blacked out for a moment.

By the time he came to, Ron had moved up to his side and cuddled him to his chest before promptly falling asleep. Harry didn't sleep at all, hardly knowing what to think. As Ron's soft chest hair tickled his nose, he only had one ridiculous thought and smiled softly, _I guess I like it rough._

___________________________________________________________________________

In the present, Harry's eyes prickled with tears. He couldn't believe how utterly stupid he was, how thoughtlessly dense, how careless with his own heart. He should have never allowed that. He should have at least, not allowed it to happen again and again and again after that night. Thinking on his painful longing now, he couldn't understand that the fact that he _liked it rough_ was the only thought that occurred to him then. It was wrong on so many levels. That was obvious. He didn't realize what was happening until it was too late. He was like a frog in a slowly heating pool, not sensing that eventually he was going to be boiled to death none the wiser. What did he think was going to happen? He was just going to continue letting Ron consume him, body and soul, without any repercussions? That Ron would choose him over his childhood sweetheart he wanted a dozen kids with? And what in the bloody hell was Ron thinking? He had a girlfriend at that time, a fiancé now, and he...

Harry choked on his sobs. He felt searing pain claw from his chest to behind his eyelids and vicious sobs wracked through his body. He was trembling with a hurt so deep, he didn't see a way out of it. He shook with his tears as they were ripped out of him.

*knock, knock" 

Harry wiped his face hastily. "What?" He meant the word to come out harshly but it came out scratchy and broken. 

"I can hear you through the walls." 

Harry remained silent. He wanted to tell him to piss off, but he couldn't muster the energy. Ron took his silence as an invitation and walked in wearing nothing but thin pajama pants with nothing underneath. Ron never wore underwear to bed. It was dark but Harry imagined he could see the outline of his thick nine inch cock swinging as he walked towards him, a cock he knew as intimately as his own. He imagined the weight of it in his mouth, the taste, masculine and smooth like velvet. He imagined choking on it because it was too big and sometimes, at Harry's own request, Ron fucked his mouth so harshly that he gagged and choked until tears were squeezed from his eyes.

Harry buried his head in his pillow. He wanted to scream. 

Ron said nothing as he sat gingerly at the side of his bed and stroked his back soothingly. He used both hands to massage his traps, up to his shoulders, down to his lower back. Tension bleeding out of him in the darkness, in the reverent touch. Harry wondered if he would dare to move his hands lower to his ass, and he fidgeted involuntarily at the thought, causing the sheet to slip down. 

Ron's hands paused and he took in a sharp breath. His grip on his lower back tightened as he bent low to kiss Harry's shoulder, one chaste kiss before moving to his ear. 

"You're naked. Why are you naked, damn you?" 

Harry turned and sat up in anger. What was that suppose to mean? That all this was his fault? Ron's the one who started this. Ron's the one who creeped into his bedroom night after night, with zero explanation, and every night Harry opened for him like a flower, demanding nothing. Insisting on nothing except _deeper, harder._

Harry pushed him off harshly and Ron stared him softly, his blue eyes sparkling with something he didn't understand. He reached towards him to wipe his face, and that's when Harry realized he was still crying silently. Harry slapped his hand away. 

"Don't."

Ron cupped the back of his neck bringing him forward. "Talk to me."

An avalanche of tears fell, taking him off guard, and Harry felt the fight in him drain out completely. Ron embraced him immediately, holding him close, stroking his hair. Snot and tears soaked his shoulder, but Ron hardly seemed to mind, only clutching him tighter, their bare chests rubbing against each other. Ron was trying to sooth him. "Shhh" is all that Harry heard in his ear and miraculously it was working. Harry couldn't help thinking how utterly fucked he truly was. Ron was both the poison and the antidote because Harry was actually calming down. The tears stopped. Ron's big body against his, that low baritone in his ear, were like a soothing balm for his nerves. Nerves that had been wreaking havoc on him all weekend in his absence. Ron softly kissed his cheek, his shoulder, a hot spot on his neck. The last caused his cock to stir. Harry clutched his hair in warning to stop or never to stop, he didn't know anymore. 

He grabbed Ron's hair and pulled back, forcing his face to part from his neck and stared at him. Harry licked his lips and glanced down to Ron's luscious lips, thicker than his and the prettiest bow shape he'd ever seen. Ron caught the look and he didn't hesitate closing the gap between them. 

His lips captured his mouth in a way that was both reverent and filthy. Harry gasped. He didn't understand how the insanely pleasurable sensation of Ron's lips against his came as a shock every time. Why couldn't he feel this way with Ginny? When was this going to get old? Ron covered his body and Harry relished the crushing weight of him on top, between his legs, as they snogged passionately, their hard cocks rubbing against each other through Ron's thin pants. Ron kissed him like a thirsty man at a well, as if he'd been gone for months, not a mere weekend. Lightening bolts of electricity surged from their touching tongues straight to Harry's cock and he forced Ron's pajama pants down to his ankles. He grabbed Ron's hard cock and tried to drag it straight to his hole, but he refused to oblige, kissing down his neck leisurely, licking and sucking at his nipples like a hungry baby, before continuing down. And Harry was lost already. Drowning in pure sensation. He knew he would regret this in the morning, but all he could think of was how badly he needed Ron inside him, how badly he needed Ron on top of him, how badly he missed him. He watched in rapture as Ron kissed down his abs, all along his pelvic bones bypassing his cock before looking up at Harry, pupils blown. Harry gasped when Ron licked one broad swipe from his balls to the tip of his cock, sucking on the tip before pushing Harry's ass back and up, spreading his cheeks wide. Then he did something that completely shocked Harry. 

He kissed his hole. 

"Oh!" Ron had never done this before, but Harry had done this for Ron in the recent past. Ron had seemed hesitant, even queasy about returning the favor, but it appeared not the case anymore. 

Ron licked and sucked and kissed at his hole with abandon, until Harry couldn't stand it anymore. Harry was mewling like a kitten as his hard cock leaked precariously against his stomach and he knew he was babbling, but he could hardly discern what he was saying. After long minutes of this treatment, he finally heard himself. 

_Fuck me, fuck me, please fuck me. I need you inside, please._

Harry blushed at his blubbering words that belonged to a whore in a brothel, not a respected auror, certainly not the chosen one. He was practically sobbing them out. After quickly casting the right charms, Ron ascended his body slowly, unhurriedly, then kissed him as if he were savoring Harry like a fine wine. Harry, in contrast felt close to losing it already, thrusting his hips up trying to make contact. Finally his cock caught the rim and they both groaned. 

Ron held his hips down tight enough to bruise. 

"Stop teasing me." 

Ron smiled softly at him, his eyes hooded in arousal, before kissing him again. 

"You're so fucking sexy when you're desperate for it." 

Harry frowned in anger, then frustration as Ron kept rubbing his cock against his hole, driving Harry closer and closer to a desperate mess. He tried pushing Ron off him, intending to gain the upper hand by flipping them over so he could sit on his cock. Ron wasn't having it.He grabbed Harry's wrists pinning them above his head and drove inside of him in one smooth stroke. The sting and burn of Ron's thick cock filling him to bursting. The borderline painful sensation was overwhelming. Eyes wide, Harry's mouth opened and closed soundlessly as Ron watched him raptly. Harry didn't mind the pain, he welcomed it. He loved it. Craved it as much as he craved the man who was delivering it. That first thrust made him feel alive in a way nothing else could. 

They both groaned and pleasure started building inside Harry as Ron immediately drove into him slow and deep, reverent and dirty. It was like Harry's brain was undergoing a reboot, wiped clean. No thoughts made it to the surface, just pleasure firing through his every neuron. Ron was fucking him so good, so thorough, his nipples rubbing against Harry chest with the back and forth motion, Harry's cock trapped between them with Ron's stomach as the only friction. All the while, hands wrapped around Harry's wrists like iron shackles. 

"I missed you," Ron whispered. 

Harry absolutely melted underneath him in response, and Ron groaned, sliding his hands down from his wrists to cup his ass for better leverage. He always told Harry that the moment he became pliant under him, boneless as a rag doll, was his favorite part of the sex. It turned him on more than anything else Harry did. He grunted as got up on his knees, practically folding Harry in half, fucking him harder now, faster, switching his angle to nail his prostate with every thrust. Harry's moans reached a fever pitch. Ron's hips slapped against his ass as sweat dripped down his forehead onto Harry's abs. All it took was one of Ron's tight strokes on his cock, and he was shooting cum all across his stomach. Immediately Ron was triggered, roaring his release deep inside Harry, short harsh thrusts eeking out his orgasm, plowing Harry into the mattress as if he couldn't get his come deep enough. 

When Ron stopped, they both breathed harshly in the silence, trying to collect themselves. Ron was heavy on top him, still balls deep, and Harry could hardly breathe, but he didn't mind. It was like Ron was shielding him the world, from reality itself. Some time after, Ron slid out causing Harry to wince and gathered Harry in his arms, stroking his back lovingly. 

"I missed you so much," Ron said again. 

Harry wanted to say he missed him too, so much that he could hardly breathe, wanted to say that he loved him, wanted to ask him to stay, but the words got caught in his throat. 

He said nothing. 

________________________________________________________________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I continue this?
> 
> I was definitely inspired by fellow author "TheUltimateUndesirable." I could see this become a multi-chapter. Let me know if I should continue. Any and every comment and kudos is very appreciated. I'm dying to know what you think. Love it? Hate it? 
> 
> More? The more you comment and kudos, the more I write!


	2. Chapter 2

The morning brought clarity upon Harry like a bucket of ice cold water.

As he showered, he couldn't believe how emotional and unhinged he'd been last night. He was acting like a bloody girl, and Ron wouldn't be quick to forget. He knew how much Ron hated to see him suffer and wouldn't forgive himself if he thought he'd been the cause. It would be so much easier to let him go if he was a git about the whole thing, but that was never the case. And it always left Harry wanting more. 

Though Harry often stated that they needed to stop, it was more like a game at this point. Afterwards, when they'd inevitably end up sleeping together, Ron would bring it up. Harry would play it off like it was nothing, claiming that he was stressed from work. He wanted to slap himself for his dramatic behavior last night. He always hid his feelings well, _too well,_ in fact, until now. What was wrong with him? 

The shower door opened and there stood Ron, in all his naked glory, looking more like a viking god than a man. Harry bit his lip and held back a groan. Ron scoffed, forcing Harry to look up at his perfect troubled face, his blue eyes tense with worry. 

He dipped his head under the water and Harry watched transfixed as water droplets cascaded down his endless abs to his perfect cock which hardened under Harry's gaze. He cursed the fact that sharing showers together was as common as sharing meals together. This couldn't be normal. 

"Hey, eyes up here." 

Harry's head snapped up to look at him bashfully. He felt his cheeks warm at being caught basically ogling the man. It's not like he could bloody help it. Anyone would. There was just so much of him and all wet too. Looking up wasn't much better, Ron's red hair was slicked back, water droplets clinging to eyelashes that surrounded ocean blue eyes. They sparkled in the daylight. He looked particularly vibrant this morning, thrumming with vitality like a red-haired adonis.

Those eyes hardened as they bore into Harry's. 

"I'm going to tell Hermione." 

Harry's mouth dropped. He'd heard this before, but in the past, it always came out as a question. He asked Harry _if_ he should tell Hermione, _if_ he should break it off with her. The answer was always a vehement _no._

"What? Don't be silly." 

"Harry, last night..." 

"I'm fine. It was just a bad nightmare from the war." 

Ron looked at him skeptically. It was true that Harry often had nightmares from the war. He would wake up drenched in sweat, screaming his lungs out and Ron would hold him all through the night. 

"I don't believe you." 

"I've never lied to you before," Harry lied easily. Ron squeezed his eyes with his hand. 

"I don't know Harry. I'm...confused and I just don't want to see you hurt." Harry flushed with anger and humiliation. 

"I'm not some bloody girl. I don't need you to hold my hand. I admit, last night I was a bit tense. I didn't mean to snap at you. I had to work overtime through the weekend because we were one auror down. That's all." 

Ron stared at him for a long time, and Harry stared right back refusing to drop his gaze lest he be discovered. 

"Look. I know we never talk about it but this...thing between us isn't going away, no matter how many times we agree to stop. It isn't fair to Hermione, and I..." 

Harry rushed to interrupt him. "It doesn't count. You're just...helping me out." 

Ron just looked at him, his face unreadable, that stern gaze was starting to make Harry squirm. He laughed nervously, as if it was all a big joke, scrambling for something to say. 

"I think I just need a boyfriend." 

Ron's jaw clenched, his cheek muscle quivering before turning around to finish washing. Harry felt wrong-footed and absurdly guilty. He knew they had no claim on each other, but when Ron lay his thick calloused hands upon him, he just felt like _his._ And that couldn't be healthy.

Still, he wanted a reaction from him. 

"What do you think?" 

"I think you need to do whatever makes you happy," he said without turning around. 

_Whatever makes him happy._ The answer was simple. Be with Ron forever. The more they had sex, the more Harry couldn't imagine being with someone else. The thought of someone else touching him made him feel a bit queasy, to be honest, and that was the real problem. He hadn't ever tried pursuing a relationship claiming that he didn't want the media attention. But something had to be done. For as much as he craved Ron, he couldn't imagine a world without Hermione and Ron as a couple. He loved Hermione and wanted her to be happy. If he acted selfishly, he would lose Hermione's friendship, destroy her happiness, and Ron would inevitably end up resenting him in the end. He'd lose that friendship too. Harry had never been a selfish person, and he wasn't about to start now. So he forced the words out that caused bile to rise in his throat. 

"I'm happy for you and Hermione. I really am. You belong together...Don't muck it all up because a bit of experimenting." 

Ron turned and looked at him sharply. Harry was getting increasingly uncomfortable under his scrutiny so he did the only thing he could think of to distract him. He grabbed his dick and started stroking it. 

Ron's abs tensed and he let out a startled laugh. 

"Bloody hell Harry, you treat me like a piece of meat." 

And what a piece of meat it was. Looking down at it, Harry sighed. it was just so bloody perfect, pale and flushed red at the tip, huge, straight and _pretty._ He internally whined about the fact that Ron had undoubtedly ruined him for other men. It steadily grew under Harry's hand and he craved to have it in his mouth. He knew their days were numbered and he wanted to experience as much of Ron as he could. But he had to keep it casual. 

"Fancy a blowie before work?" 

Ron hesitated as if he knew Harry was putting on an act, but Harry just smiled mischievously at him. Harry's grins were always contagious so Ron grinned back and shrugged. 

Harry dropped to his knees and immediately swallowed Ron whole, no teasing or preamble. Ron groaned above him and fell back against the shower wall, his knees almost giving out. He sucked with enthusiasm, spit dripping out of the sides of his mouth from taking it so deep. Ron was already leaking and he savored the taste, salty with hints of sweetness that reminded him of the burrow. He remembered when he could only take half of him, remembered the ache in his jaw, his sensitive gag reflect which he had since trained to be nearly absent. His jaw still ached a bit afterwards, but not as much as in the beginning. Besides, he liked it. Every time his jaw twinged as he went about his work day, he imagined that perfect red mushroom tipped cock forcing its way down his throat. 

"You're so good at that." 

Harry preened and moaned in response, popping his cock out to lick and suck at his balls. He forced Ron's legs open more so that he could lick his hole and Ron whimpered. 

Moving back to his main goal, he gave the head kittenish licks as he reached up to grab Ron's hands to put on the back of his head, looking up at him imploringly. Gone was the chuckling Ron and his gaze darkened. Knowing exactly what he wanted, Ron grabbed Harry's head to keep it steady and began fucking his mouth with fast shallow stroked. Harry moaned, as Ron used his mouth as nothing more than a hole to fuck. 

He forced his cock all the way to the hilt and held it there, Harry's nose buried in a thick thatch of red curls. He couldn't breath, but he didn't want to. He swallowed, squeezing his throat muscles around the hard shaft. Ron cursed and withdrew quickly, a long line of spit trailed from his mouth to the tip of his cock. 

"I want to fuck you."

He pulled Harry up by his hair abruptly and forced him to face the wall, one arm holding him tight across his neck and shoulders, the other squeezing his ass as he rubbed his hard cock between his cheeks. Harry was forced to arch his back. He slapped his ass hard enough that Harry yelped. Unconcerned, Ron nipped at his neck sure to leave love bites. 

"No visible marks." Harry was awful with healing spells. 

Ron scoffed at him and rubbed his hole with his fingers before sticking one in. 

"Want me to fuck you?" 

Harry nodded as Ron lubed up his fingers from a bottle they kept in the shower. Harry moaned wantonly as Ron plunged two fingers inside and nudged at his prostate with expert precision. 

"You sure you're not done 'experimenting' with me?" 

Harry blushed, suddenly feeling horribly exposed. 

"Just get on with it. We'll be late for work." As usual, his tone came off biting and cocky when he was unsure of himself. 

Ron grabbed his ass brutally and slapped it in quick succession. Finally, he began to push in. Harry let out a sigh of relief and bowed his head as Ron filled him up. No matter how many times they did this, it always seemed like too much, impossible to fit but so damn good. 

Ron moaned when his balls made contact, pausing. 

"How are you so bloody tight?" He gripped Harry's ass as if to steady himself. 

"Move already." 

Ron inhaled a sharp breath before leaning forward to bite Harry's neck harder than he ever had. It hurt. It hurt quite a lot, but it only served to make Harry's cock harder. He wasn't just giving Harry a hickey, he was _chewing_ on his neck like a vampire. Harry cried out but he didn't reprimand him. 

Ron immediately started a brutal punishing pace, holding Harry still best he could. The sound of their flesh connecting seemed obscenely loud as it echoed in the shower. He was so overzealous that Harry's whole body slammed into the wall a few times. All the while, he was sucking and chewing on Harry's neck like a wild animal.

The biting just drove him to greater heights, making him sensitive everywhere. Harry felt like he was flung off in another dimension, a dangerous mix of pleasure and pain threatening to tear him apart at the seams. Involuntary tears pricked his eyes at the overload of sensation and if it weren't for Ron holding him up damn near off his toes, he would've simply collapsed to the floor. 

Ron moved from his neck to suck on his earlobe, his brutal pace unrelenting.

"Say my name." 

Harry just grunted in response which earned him a nasty bite. 

"Ron!" 

Ron wrapped his hand around his cock and starting stroking as he picked up the pace. He bent his knees and fucked Harry upwards, nailing his prostate. A trickle of precum filled Ron's hand. 

"Oh, fuck."

"Yea, that's it. So good. so tight. Wanna come in you," Ron sounded absolutely gone. 

The sound of Ron's voice pushed him over the edge. Harry was done for, in more ways than one. Ron twisted his hand as he jerked him just right on a particularly brutal thrust, and jets of cum splattered the shower wall as Harry screamed Ron's name to completion. 

He couldn't see. He couldn't speak. He couldn't hear anything. Black spots swam across his vision as he struggled to catch his breath. By the time he gathered himself, Ron had stopped moving behind him and he realized that he must have come when he was zonked out. 

Harry breathed hard, just wanting Ron to pull out already. He was internally crumbling the longer he stood there with Ron still inside him, something horrible building up in his chest. He looked forward and realized Ron's hand was grasping his against the shower wall. His own hand was shaking underneath it. He slowly realized it wasn't just his hand, his whole body was trembling. Ron softy caressed his lips against Harry's neck, the uninjured side. His hands stroking his sides soothingly. 

"Allright?" 

"Fine," a broken whisper. He cleared his throat. 

Ron sighed and leaned his head into Harry's neck. For merlin's sake, this wasn't the time for cuddling. He tried to squirm out of his grip but Ron held fast. Harry needed him out. Out of his body, out of his mind, and out of his heart...Was that? Was he actually trying to push in deeper? 

Harry bucked backwards forcing him out. He quickly washed up and moved to exit the shower, but not before Ron grasped his bicep. 

"I can heal that for you." He nodded at Harry's neck.

He softly shrugged him off, the need to get away threatening to suffocate him. 

"I'll do it." Harry forced a soft smile before closing the door behind him. 

When he got to the safety of his bedroom, he collapsed against the closed door and breathed out. 

_Well, fuck._

_____________________________________________________________


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alessandra Hazard totally inspired the chapter. love her. Highly recommend all her books.

Harry tried to gather his bearings. He took deep calming breaths but his trembling still hadn't subsided. He didn't know the cause. Perhaps it was a combination of his emotional night coupled with the unexpected shag this morning. Plus, there was a new intensity recently that just wasn't there in the past.

For the most part, he and Ron laughed and joked during sex which prevented it from getting weird. It definitely was starting to feel weird now. He didn't want to think on it, choosing instead to focus on getting ready for work. He shakily toweled himself dry, wincing a little as the movement sent a fresh wave of dull pain through his ass. He walked to the mirror. 

He was covered in bruises. His neck looked red and angry, the imprint of so many teeth marks clearly visible, a giant hickey beginning to form. He looked as if he'd been attacked by a werewolf. Harry stared at the finger shaped bruises on his hips and thighs, no doubt from last night's rough handling. He touched them and his whole body tingled. As he turned around, his flaming red ass cheeks came into view. They were red all over but he could just distinguish Ron's red handprint. He was trying to decide if he was freaking out...his trembling intensified.

One thing was certain, he wouldn't be able to get through the day like this so he decided to take a calming drought. Fred and George specifically brewed this batch for him. They were spiked with a dash of _E_ _ssence of Euphoria._ He rarely took them because Hermione often warned him of their dangerous addictive potential but these were desperate times. His hand shook as he raised the glass vile to his lips. As soon as the potion touched his tongue, the shaking stopped and he felt loads better.

He was just being silly about the whole thing. His jumble of emotions subsided completed and his little crush on Ron, for that's all it was, was packed away, back in the box of his subconscious mind where it belonged. Of course he had a crush on him. Ron was the only man he ever had sex with. Any normal person would have a little crush on their best friend if they shagged all the time. He really did have a stressful work weekend and he wasn't used to his best mate being away, that's all it was. He couldn't remember the last time three whole days passed without seeing him. 

Harry smiled to himself, having figured it all out. He didn't even attempt to heal the marks, opting to glamour them instead. He was pants at healing charms, but disguises...

Disguises he was great at.

_______________________________________________________________

Harry was in unusually high spirits as he practically skipped through his work day. He and Ron laughed and joked together more than usual, their friendship intact as always. At lunch, Hermione joined them, and Harry was genuinely happy to see her. She worked in the minister's office directly as an understudy deputy, no doubt being groomed for position of minister. Harry pushed her on details of their weekend, smiling widely at her description of the quaint perfect garden where she and Ron were to be wed. Ron _never_ mentioned anything about the wedding to Harry.

Now that he thought about it, it seemed a little strange that he didn't. Speaking of the man, he remained silent through the entire conversation, staring at Harry in a unnerving way, but Harry was unperturbed. He laughed at all the right moments and ribbed Ron good-naturedly as Hermione lamented the fact that she had to practically drag Ron through all their appointments. Last night and this morning seemed a distant dream. 

They were joined by a few of Hermione's coworkers, amongst them, Cormac McLaggon, whom Ron hated with a fiery passion. Hermione insisted that he had changed a great deal since their Hogwarts days and always acted like the perfect gentleman around her. As always, people outside of their trio practically stumbled all over themselves when Harry was present, Cormac not excluded. 

It wasn't just because he was Harry Potter, the boy who lived, the savior of the Wizarding World, though that would have been quite enough. It was more the mystique that surrounded Harry's auror skills and the reputation of his ever increasing magical power. Healing charms aside, Harry could do most defensive spells wandlessly now, even complicated rare magic that few people knew and even fewer people cast. Harry scoffed and laughed when they called him a young Albus Dumbledore, but his humility only made him more magnetizing and attractive. Witches tripped all over themselves around him which only served to make him feel awkward and caused Ron, always close by, to roll his eyes.

Not to mention his physical appearance which had changed drastically since his Hogwarts days. No matter how much Harry denied it, he had grown to become an exceptionally attractive bloke. Gone was the scrawny boy and in his place stood a man. Years training hard at the Auror gym had transformed his body into a masterpiece of chiseled marble with a pert high bum. His face had lost all its softness. That sharp jaw could cut diamond, those thick black lashes fluttered around deep green eyes that held so many secrets. His perpetual status as "single" only increased interest.

Hermione often told him he was a triple threat and the most eligible bachelor in all of Great Britain. 

All the attention was rather off putting for Harry, for various reasons, not the least of which that he was closeted gay. So he projected a bit of a cold macho front to seem more unapproachable. He fit the bill, in any case. Besides his masculine features, he had a certain aura around him that was both intimidating and intriguing. It was hard for most people to look at him, harder to look away. 

Cormac was hogging Harry's attention at the table. He would usually brush him off for Ron's sake, but he was feeling more open than usual this afternoon and obliged him in a bit of small talk. He couldn't help noticing how attractive the bloke become. Even in their Hogwarts days, Harry faintly recalled how good his ass looked flying that broom during quidditch tryouts. Harry chuckled at himself internally. How did it take him so long to figure out that he was gay? But of course he was. He forgave himself this oversight as his mind was a bit preoccupied with a certain dark lord at the time. 

Ron glowered at him as if he were some sort of Brutus and Harry laughed but took that opportunity to go up to the counter to purchase a gillyweed water. That damned potion always made him so thirsty. Hermione quickly followed, checking around to make sure they were out of ear shot of anyone. 

"So...what do you think of Cormac?" she whispered. 

"He's alright, I guess. Why? Planning to take him to the yule ball again?" 

Hermione rolled her eyes and chuckled. 

"He's obviously not interested in me...Did you know...Cormac is openly bisexual?'

Harry cleared his throat. Hermione knew he was gay of course. He could hardly keep it a secret from her. Actually, she told Harry that she always suspected it. Trust Hermione to always know more about Harry than Harry himself. 

"And?" 

"And I think he'd be a good match for you...don't you think it's time to try dating Harry?" 

"Hermione, the media would have a circus if they found out about me." 

"I've been working with him for over a year and can confidently tell you that Cormac is trustworthy and an honest-to-merlin good bloke. He would never out you. That, I can promise," she smirked. "He's far more humble these days. Plus, he's stupidly attractive. Witches and wizards are clamoring for a date with him...he asks about you a lot. Wants to have coffee with you." 

"I don't know Hermione..." 

Harry's eyes wandered and he accidentally caught Ron's gaze. Suddenly, Harry could acutely feel the hickey hidden under his glamour, the bruises on his thighs, the soreness in his ass. He made a quick decision.

"Okay, I'm in." 

Hermione squealed in delight, grasping his arm, then pulled a tiny piece of parchment from her robe pocket. 

"Okay, here's his floo address. He'll be waiting for your owl. Don't tell Ron I gave it to you. He'll kill me." 

"What? Why?" 

"You know how weird he is about you."

Harry adjusted his collar, his neck growing hot. 

"What do you mean?" 

"Surely you've noticed how protective he is over you." 

Harry laughed awkwardly. 

"Okay, Ron's giving me dagger eyes. I swear that man always knows when I'm up to something. Let's get back to the table." 

When they sat back down, Harry looked at Cormac in a new light, he was gesturing wildly as he regaled the table of a funny story involving turning the minister's hat permanently orange. Most of Cormac's attention was now focused on him. Harry noticed his high cheekbones and pretty bow shaped lips. His light blue eyes were practically sparkling at Harry as he smiled devilishly revealing a set of full white teeth. Harry smiled sweetly at him, the parchment in his pocket sparking a promise of hope. 

__________________________________________________________________

As light drained from the sky turning day to night, so did the effects of Harry's potion. Ron was putting in extra hours at the gym and Harry was pacing the living room thinking of what the night would bring. Would Ron come to his room? His palms started to sweat. He didn't think he could handle more at this point. Surely once a day was excessive as it is. The desire to run away had returned along with that painful clawing feeling in his chest. He went into the kitchen to make a pot of tea in an effort to calm himself. 

A few minutes later, a tap at his shoulder caused him to jump out his skin, nearly spilling hot water all over himself. 

"Merlin's bullocks Ron! Normal people announce themselves when they walk into a room." 

"In my own house? Plus, I like sneaking up on you." 

Ron indeed liked creeping up on Harry unawares, quiet as a shadow. It wasn't always the case. For most of his life, Ron stomped around with the grace of a troll, making as much noise as possible. During auror training, all their superiors hammered into Ron the importance of an Auror's ability to move silently and made him train extra hard at it. He was a pro now. 

"Besides, why are you so jumpy?" 

Harry couldn't meet his eyes, fidgeting. Now that the potion had faded, he was actually more uncomfortable in his skin than he was this morning. He leaned his body away from Ron. 

"What's with you? You were happy a dove earlier and now you're whingeing. Did you take a potion today?" 

Harry's head snapped up, eyes wide. Curse the gods for this side effect of a decades long friendship. Ron could read him like an open book. 

"Yea, I took the one Fred and George made me." 

Ron frowned. "Why? That stuff's not good for you Harry."

"You're not my mother. Stay out of it." 

Ron raised his arms in surrender and carefully looked at Harry who wasn't meeting his eyes. 

"I'm going for a shower. I was thinking Thai for dinner. Sound alright?" 

"Sure." 

Dinner was a strained affair to say the least. Harry was lost in his head and didn't look up at Ron once as they both ate in silence. Harry was so relieved when it was over. As they both stood at the sink washing up, Ron brushed Harry's neck softly and he flinched. 

Ron frowned at his reaction. "Your glamour is fading. Let me heal it for you." 

Harry resisted the urge to cover his neck. "It's fine," he snapped. He'd be damned if he let Ron heal it for him.

"Sorry about that."

"It's really fine, Ron," he said softer.

An awkward silence fell between them. 

"You know, Hermione's been nagging me to stay at her place for a bit, but it's such a pain. All my stuff is here."

Harry perked up. 

"That's a great idea! You should definitely do it. I can help you pack. It'll only be for a week, right? You'll just need the essentials." 

Ron frowned. 

"I don't know if I want to. Are you....I mean, did I do something wrong?"

Harry looked at him properly for the first time, his blue eyes filled with concern. He was overwhelmed with the desire to kiss him, so much so that his heart rate accelerated the longer they looked at each other. 

"Of course not." Harry forced a smile, but he could barely manage it. His facial muscles felt stiff. 

"I'm just tired. I think I'll turn in early." Harry said, and he escaped to his room like a coward. 

His heart was beating out of his chest as he paced his room manically. Some of this was certainly a side effect of the potion, how much, he couldn't tell, but he needed to do something about this...obsession. This repugnant desire to put his mouth over every inch of Ron's body. He really hoped Ron would take up Hermione's offer. He was actually due for a week at Hermione's. He'd done it many times before, and Harry needed some space. He was drowning. 

Suddenly, he remembered the parchment in his pocket. Of course, all he needed was a new experience since his was so limited. That would set things right. He was sure of it. He quickly penned a note to to Cormac asking him to meet for coffee this coming Saturday afternoon. As he sent Little Hedwig off, he felt moderately better and decided on taking a long bath to calm his nerves.

He dressed in worn blue night shorts and an old Ravenclaw shirt that Luna gifted him. When he emerged from his room for a glass of water, he felt refreshed. Ron was sitting stiffly on the couch staring at nothing. 

"What's up?" 

Ron held up a square parchment with a wax seal. "Letter." 

Harry gulped his water balefully as he slowly stepped to the couch. The very air felt thinner here. 

"Thanks." 

Harry flipped it over, Cormac's name written on the back plain as day. Harry cursed his foresight, not thinking Cormac would respond so quickly. Little Hedwig must have delivered it to Ron because he was in the shower. 

"So you and Cormac are best mates then? Since when?" 

"Not exactly best mates..." 

"What then?" 

Suddenly, Harry was feeling reckless, wanting to rile Ron up. 

"Just asked him on a coffee date is all." 

He could practically hear Ron grinding on his teeth, his face reddening as if he were about to pop off.

Harry smiled innocently. "What?" 

"You've got to be bloody joking! Cormac McLaggon of all people? You can't possibly be entertaining the thought of dating that pompous prick. Have you lost your marbles?" 

"What's it to you?" 

Ron grimaced. "I care about you, you git." 

"Shouldn't you be happy for me? I'm finally going on my first real date with a bloke." 

Ron sighed. "I just don't want to see you hurt Harry. This guy's reputation with both blokes and birds is horrible." 

"It's just Saturday coffee, Ron." 

"...Right." 

Ron stared at the unlit fireplace. "You know, I think I'll turn in too...Night." And he rose from couch, disappearing into his room.

He didn't slam his door, but it was a close thing. 

_____________________________________________________________________________

The next morning Harry was downright relieved to see Ron's duffle bag outside his bedroom door. He had stayed up all night wondering if Ron would come to his bed, but he never did, the git. Harry hadn't slept a wink and was groggy as all hell this morning. He blamed Ron for that. He sulked thinking that if they fucked, at least he would've gotten some sleep. He chose not to shower as he had no need to. His usual activities that dirtied him in the night never happened so he was still fresh. He escaped to work early before Ron even opened his bedroom door.

He and Ron were amicable at work as always, and it honestly brought Harry so much joy. There was no tension between them at all. Harry didn't understand how Ron easily switched from best mate to concerned lover that shagged him into the mattress, but he did so seamlessly. The man wore many faces. At the end of the day, Harry practically fell on his bed in a fit of exhaustion the minute he returned home and did not wake until the next morning. 

His upcoming date with Cormac made him a bit nervous but excited too. That, coupled with his best mate's absence from their house had the dubious effect of making him feel loads better about his Ron crisis.

It was suddenly too easy to safely tuck Ron back into the mates-with-benefits box because he had a _real_ date with a potential boyfriend coming soon. It somehow diminished Ron's cataclysmic importance in his head. He could hardly remember what he'd been so...bothered about. This was his best mate who knew him better than anyone. No matter what happened sexually between them, or who he married, they were bonded for life. Ron would never leave his side.

Harry decided he was being a twat about the whole thing.

Plus, though he saw him every day at work, he missed that red-haired git in their house...

He was really craving a thorough shagging, to be honest.

His hand was cramping from how much he used his dildo, practically every night Ron was gone. 

By the time Friday arrived, Harry was desperate. "Want to listen to quidditch on the radio tonight? Our place?" 

Ron smiled. "Sure." 

_______________________________________________________________________

Ronald Weasley used to think he had a healthy sex life, but after months fucking his best friend, he realized how wrong he'd been.

After the war was over, and before getting serious with Hermione, he went on a spree of women, sharpening his skills and learning how to please in the bedroom. Yet none of his partners were like Harry, gender aside. 

Harry was bloody _insatiable._ Ron liked to think the women he had sex with in the past left his bed perfectly satisfied but Harry...he was something else. He got hard the moment Ron pulled out his cock, writhing impatiently until Ron finally gave him what he wanted: his cock. He never met anyone who was as into being fucked as Harry was.

Ron had to admit, it was a bit of an ego boost and it always left him wanting _more_. He knew Harry was just using him, insisting he come to his bedroom every single night, whining the next morning when he didn't, but sometimes, he thought he caught something in his eyes, something that made him want to confess everything to Hermione, damn the consequences, a certain...tenderness that made him feel weird and warm inside. 

They never really talked about it, and it was all so bloody confusing. Harry would insist they stop and give him desperate _fuck me_ eyes the very same night. Sometimes he felt Harry's anger, felt him pulling away leaving him to wonder if he'd done something wrong, if he secretly resented the fact that he had a girlfriend, _fiancé, merlin._ Hermione hardly even crossed his mind when he was with Harry.

He adjusted to Harry's moods the way only a best mate could, waiting for Harry to come to him. He always did, his playful, casual spirit restored. When he was questioned about his dark moods, Harry always insisted that it was nothing, laughing at the mere idea that it could be anything to do with the sex.

He was skeptical, sure he sensed something more...Still, most of the time, Ron felt like a glorified dildo. 

"Come on, mate," Harry whined. 

"After the quidditch game," Ron said, his eyes on the radio. Scotland was crushing the Bulgarians, but he was sure they'd make a comeback. 

"But I'm horny," Harry said, flopping down on the couch next to him. Apparently, playful Harry was back.

Ron snorted. "You're always horny." He kept his eyes on the radio, pretending not to notice that Harry's eyes were fixed unsubtly on his crotch. "Use a dildo if you can't wait." 

In his peripheral vision, Harry's bottom lip stick out. Merlin, if people only knew what a big baby the mighty chosen one really was, at least when it came to sex. 

"Don't want a dildo," Harry said, eying Ron's denim-clad crotch. "Want your cock."

The cock in question twitched. Ron ignored it. He was listening to a good quidditch game, and he wasn't going to let Harry distract him from it just because he wanted to use Ron's prick to get off. 

"Ron," Harry whined, putting his head on Ron's shoulder. "Come on." He tried pulling Ron to the bedroom. 

Ron heaved a sigh. "Do you think this kind of attitude is a turn-on? The more you whine, the less arousing it is. Let me listen to the damn game." 

"Fine," Harry said sulkily. 

They listened to the period in silence, and Ron almost dozed off when he felt it: a hand on his cock. 

He flinched, his eyes snapping open. "Harry." 

"What?" Harry's voice was all innocence. 

"What are you doing?" Ron said, boring his eyes into Harry's face. He'd been grabbing his cock a lot lately, when they were naked, but never when they were in best mate mode.

Harry shrugged, his hungry gaze on Ron's crotch. He palmed the outline of Ron's mostly soft cock before honest-to-Merlin pouting. 

Ron rolled his eyes, knocking Harry's hand off his cock, returning his gaze to the radio. 

Except Harry put his hand back and started feeling up his cock again. 

"Shouldn't you be waxing your balls for your hot date tomorrow instead of groping my cock?" Ron grated out, exasperated, even though his cock started hardening anyway. 

Harry chuckled. "I'm not groping your cock," he said, his green eyes locked on Ron's crotch with terrified fascination that was equally off-putting and arousing. "I'm...getting it into a working state. Not much different from washing and lubing a dildo." 

"Right," Ron said, torn between laughing and telling Harry to go fuck himself-literally. 

"I'm glad you're cool with it, mate," Harry said, unzipping Ron's jeans and pulling out his half-hard cock. "I don't want things to become weird between us." 

"Sure Harry," Ron said, but the thick sarcasm seemed to fly right over Harry's head. He clenched his jaw as Harry started stroking his cock. To Ron's irritation and discomfort, it wasn't even the handjob that was doing it for him. The fixated partially nervous, partially hungry look on Harry's stupid pretty face was a bigger turn-on than the awkward handie he was receiving. Ron didn't know why the hell this was so arousing. Maybe because there was something vaguely wrong about _Harry_ touching his cock.

It wasn't even that he was a man, Ron privately decided that he was bisexual months ago. He'd be an idiot not to notice how much he enjoyed fucking Harry. It felt like taboo because Harry was his best mate, so this felt wrong, almost incestuous. Harry was closer to him than his own brothers.

Except Ron's cock didn't seem to give a damn about Ron's misgivings, hardening only after a few strokes of Harry's hand. 

"Can I...?"

Ron stared at him, but before he could say anything, Harry leaned down and gave his cock a lick. 

___________________________________________________________

Harry had genuinely intended to just get a taste, to sate the desperation he'd been feeling for what felt like ages. He fully intended on waiting until they were in the privacy of their dark bedroom for sex. It was a safe space there, the rules were different.

Here, they were in a well-lit parlor, a place they'd never done anything before. The floo was right in front of them and who knows who could call at this very moment. But the moment his tongue touched the velvety skin of Ron's erection, he kind of...lost himself in the texture and taste of it. He _had_ to lick it again. And again. And again.

Shit, he'd almost forgotten how good it tasted. How could a cock taste so good?

Harry licked the swollen red head and exhaled shakily as the taste assaulted his senses _._ Ron's cock stimulated his sensitive mouth just _right,_ making his head spin with pleasure. He could think of little else. He just wanted to keep sucking it, feel the cock rub against the walls of his mouth. It felt so good, but the position he was in hurt his neck, so Harry rolled off the couch and dropped to his knees in front of Ron's spread thighs. 

He moaned a little when he put his mouth back on Ron's cock, his eyes slipping shut involuntarily. 

"Fuck," Ron grated out, sounding breathless. "You really like this." 

Embarrassment washed over him. He always claimed in the past that he did this for practice, pushing Ron to be brutal as possible about it to make it seem like a training exercise, a chore. Of course he liked it. He _loved_ it, but Ron couldn't know that. Harry refused to answer, suddenly feeling self-conscious but unable to stop sucking.

"Yeah, like that," Ron murmured, laying a hand on his head. "You're doing so well." 

Harry preened a little, the compliment erasing his self-consciousness. Of course he was good at it; he wasn't the bloody chosen one for nothing. At this point, Harry knew he was awesome at sex. 

For a while there was just the wet, obscene sound of Ron's cock moving in his mouth. But when Ron's breathing became harsh and labored, Harry pulled off and said, "Nope, you aren't coming anywhere but in my ass." 

Ron glared at him. 

"Then get on with it, you twat." 

Smirking in triumph, Harry quickly shed own jeans and boxers and straddled Ron's lap, practically shaking with impatience. 

"Did you prep?"

"Yea," Harry whispered, trying to line them up. 

Harry hissed as he sank slowly onto the cock. He didn't always like this part that much, the initial uncomfortable feeling of having something so big in his ass, but he knew it would get better. So damn better. 

"Easy," Ron murmured, settling his hands on Harry's hips to steady him. 

Their eyes met and locked. 

Something shifted in Ron's expression. 

Harry felt his skin become warm. Because of the position, their faces were uncomfortably close, and it felt...different. More intimate, somehow, especially in the well-lit parlor. 

Discomfited, Harry closed his eyes and started riding Ron slowly, focusing on the wonderful feeling of a cock moving inside his hole. He felt Ron lean forward to kiss him, but he turned his head, focusing on his pleasure. He rode him harder but it still wasn't enough. He could fuck himself on a dildo with the same result. He loved _being_ fucked. He just wanted to lie back and take it. There was something about it that incredibly turned him on. Maybe because it was taboo. Men were suppose to be the takers after all. 

"Ugh, need something different," he said breathlessly, opening his eyes and focusing them on Ron with some difficulty. "Wanna be under you." 

A muscle in Ron's cheek jumped, his expression dark, almost foreboding. It was a look on Ron he'd never seen before. He never looked at Harry with that kind of intensity during sex. 

But before Harry could say anything, Ron toppled them over. 

What followed was the most intense, brutal fuck of his life. Harry could only gasp and stare at the ceiling with glazed eyes as his best friend practically folded him in half and fucking ravished him, every thrust aimed to hit his prostate perfectly. It was terrifying. It was perfect. It was everything he'd ever needed. 

"Oh God, ah, ah, yes, yes, _yes,"_ Harry mumbled incoherently. He had been holding his own legs up and apart, but now he lifted and rested them on Ron's shoulders while Ron fucked into him like a jackhammer. He vaguely recalled being worried about something, but he couldn't remember what. Shit, this was perfect. Ron's cock felt so perfect- 

"You're such a slag," Ron bit out between his brutal thrusts. "Wanna stuff you so full of my cock you can't bloody walk straight for a week - and everyone will know what a cock slut you are behind your macho front -" 

Harry came, untouched, so suddenly it caught him by surprise. He gasped for breath, trying to recover from the rush of intense pleasure and understand what had just happened. Did he just...did he just come from a bit of dirty talk? 

Huh. 

Why had Ron talked to him that way? Obviously, Ron hadn't meant those words, but how did he know that they would turn Harry on? 

When Harry managed to focus his gaze, he found Ron staring at him with a very strange expression. 

Ron pulled out and rolled out of him. 

"Where are you going?" Harry said in confusion. Ron's cock looked hard enough to hurt. 

"I have to go," Ron said, zipping up his fly albeit with some difficulty. He voice sounded a little off, clipped. He wouldn't quite meet Harry's eyes. 

"It's midnight," Harry said, his confusion growing by the second. "I thought you were staying the night." 

Ron shook his head. "I have to go." 

And then he was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh, Ron!? 
> 
> What do you think? Sorry this chapter was so long but there was quite a lot to get out. Plus, I wanted to show you their typical banter during sex. 
> 
> PS: Thank you! 700 views in 3 days! (wow) 
> 
> What do you think? Should I continue? Is it getting boring or do you want more? 
> 
> PLEASE kudos and comment if I should write more.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owe it all to Alessandra Hazard!

"Are you going to tell us what the hell is wrong with you?" 

Ron looked at his brother and snorted, seeing his stern gaze. "I know you're ancient, but I'm not exactly a kid anymore, Bill. I don't have to explain anything to you."

Bill's expression didn't change, his brows furrowed as he looked at Ron inquisitively. "You've been brooding. You don't brood. You aren't me." 

Ron smiled faintly. It was a bit of a family joke that while Bill and Ron looked creepily alike, they couldn't be more different as far as their personalities were concerned. Bill was reserved and responsible, inclined to ordering people around; Ron was easy-going and laid-back, as long as it didn't concern something or someone he truly care about. If it did, he was prone to being...too intense. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ron said at last. 

He could feel Bill's unimpressed gaze even without looking. 

"We've barely seen you for weeks, but then you turn up at my house and practically moved in. Not to mention your best mate floo called several times, and you asked us to lie to him that you weren't here. What the fuck? Since when do you avoid Harry?" 

_Since I started sticking my cock into_ _him_ , Ron thought, pinching the bridge of his nose. No, it wasn't correct: things had been fine in the beginning. He hadn't even thought of what he did with Harry as real sex--they were just mates who got off together, nothing more. But the last time he looked down at Harry's silly O-face, he felt a twinge of pure male satisfaction and want. 

And it had freaked him out. 

Ron _didn't_ want to want Harry like that. He never once considered that he could truly be into a bloke for the long haul. Maybe avoiding Harry wasn't the best idea he'd ever had, but he didn't have a better one. He wanted to sort out his head, and he couldn't do that if he kept sticking his cock into Harry every day. 

For Melin's sake, he didn't want to fuck up their friendship. Harry made it clear that what they did meant nothing, just a way to get off. They both agreed to stop after the wedding. Harry was only into his cock and nothing more. He didn't see Ron as anything other than a mate, even pushed him to propose to Hermione in the first place. He never imagined he would be the one who started catching feelings.

But it had been coming along for a while now. When he was away with Hermione, he missed Harry as more than just his best mate. He had missed his body too, his laugh, his cuddles, his very being. He could see now how terrible an idea it was to start this thing with him. 

Bill heaved a sigh. "Fine. Don't talk. But I'm warning you that if you don't tell me what got you brooding, Fleur will get it out of you anyway, and she will be a lot more annoying about it than me." He sounded exasperated but endlessly affectionate. Loving.

Ron couldn't deny that a part of him was jealous. He and Hermione's relationship was almost mechanical at this point. They were still more friends than anything else. It probably didn't help that Ron never slept with her, citing his pureblood customs of waiting until marriage. His mom had forced him to promise that he would wait to sleep with Hermione like his father did for her. It was one of the main reasons Ron went on a sex spree before settling down with Hermione, and the reason he agreed to 'help' Harry out in the first place. It was mutually beneficial, at the time. And now...

"I think I may have fucked up our friendship," Ron said with a sigh. 

"In what way?" 

Ron made a face, wondering how he was suppose to explain the situation without making it sound insane. 

"Just drop it Bill. I don't want to talk about it." 

"Fine, but that still doesn't explain why you're not staying at Hermione's." 

Ron heaved a heavy sigh. "She's out of town." 

True enough but not the full story. He wasn't prepared to tell anyone the truth-that he and Hermione were on a break. They both agreed to keep it private.

The minute he left Harry's, he flooed back to her flat. Hermione has been mid-packing. She and Ron had taken a large chunk of vacation days to visit her parents. 

She could immediately tell something was wrong with him, and he couldn't take it anymore. He had to tell her. He confessed everything about he and Harry's casual arrangement, leaving out his weird last experience. 

She didn't say anything for a long time and just looked at him. He was expecting a nasty row, expected her to call him derogatory names, throw his stuff out of their flat and onto the street, but she just sighed defeatedly. 

"I suspected as much."

Ron was stunned. "What?" 

"After you admitted you're bisexual, I always suspected something was going on but I wasn't sure. Do you...love him?" 

Did he? 

"It's not like that Hermione. We're mates. It didn't mean anything. He doesn't see me that way. I'm done sleeping with him, but I needed to tell you before the wedding. I...I know what I've done is unforgivable, but I still very much want to marry you and have the family we always dreamed of." 

He _did_ want a family with Hermione and kids. He _was_ done with Harry. He was sure of it. He was too freaked out to even go near him. Harry was always the one who said they needed to stop, so now he would damn well listen no matter how strong his _fuck me_ eyes were.

Hermione regarded him calmly. It was unnerving. 

"Why are so freakishly calm about this?"

"I don't know...Maybe I'm in still in shock. Maybe because it's _Harry_ and not some girl. We always said we'd do anything for him, but of course, I never imagined this..." she trailed off. 

"You know, I was the one who set him up with Cormac." 

Ron's fists formed into hard balls and his jaw clenched. 

She crossed her arms over her chest and regarded him carefully for a moment before saying, "You're lying to me." 

He frowned. "What?" 

"You said it meant nothing, but look at you. You're turning all red. You're...jealous." 

Ron tried to analyze his own feelings. Fuck, he was jealous. There was no point denying it.

"I've loved you for a long time, Ron, but it always felt like something was missing. It felt like we were just...going through the motions and I was okay with it because we work well together. But I want my husband to be devoted to me. Can you honestly say if we get married, you will not pine after Harry?" 

"If?" Ron said. 

She shrugged. "If-when-I don't know. After what I've heard, I'm not sure I can go through with this. I need time to think. I'm not sure this is what I want, what _you_ want." 

Ron panicked. 

"Of course I want you. I love you. We've been together forever. We're getting married in a few months. The invitations have been sent out. I'm not leaving you at the altar."

"I know you won't. But that's not enough. I need more."

"I know you Hermione." He wasn't fooled by her calm tone. He knew she was very hurt. "It would be mortifying for you if we cancelled the wedding now." 

"I prefer to be mortified for a few days to marrying a man who's crazy about someone else." 

"I'm not-" 

"Stop," she said, putting a hand to his lips. "Stop and think. If we marry, I want it to be for the right reasons, not because you feel responsible and guilty and all that. I deserve better. And you do, too. I'm a self sufficient woman and I don't need a man to be happy." She smiled without much mirth. "I'm not going to lie and say I'm not mad or upset - I am - I'm mad as hell - but I won't be mad at you forever. Just don't lie to me or to yourself. We'd been friends for a long time before we got together and nothing will change that." 

He kissed her on the temple. "You're bloody amazing you are, you know that, right?" 

"I know," she said her tone light. "I'm the best thing that ever happened to you. You'd better remember that." 

As he watched her pack to go to her parents, he wished he could erase the last few months and convince her that she was the one he wanted to be with. He couldn't do it now. He had to convince himself first. 

______________________________________________________

Harry sat in a muggle bar feeling quite sorry for himself. 

It was official, his best mate was finally sick of him, sick of his neediness. His desperate need for Ron's cock had destroyed their friendship. He didn't care about his more-than-friendly feelings for him anymore. They were long suppressed and he vowed to keep it that way, even if it killed him. He only needed his best mate back. It was Wednesday and Harry hadn't seen or heard a peep from Ron since Friday. He was drinking his sorrows away, but it did nothing to dull the pain. It was all his fault. If he hadn't pressured Ron into fucking him all the time, Ron would still be his friend. 

_Friend?_ a voice at the back of his mind said. 

Yes, _friend,_ Harry told himself stubbornly. Ron was more important to him than a few great orgasms. He could survive without Ron's cock, but definitely didn't want to lose the best mate who'd always been there for him. 

His date with Cormac went surprisingly well, but his joy from that was short lived when he showed up at work Monday and Ron was nowhere to be found. He had a friend in HR who told him that Ron had scheduled off this upcoming week. He hadn't even bothered to tell Harry about it. 

When he returned home from the bar, he heard noise from Ron's room. It was him, he was finally back!

He was packing some more of his things which incensed Harry. 

"Where the bloody hell have you been?! Hermione's floo is blocked and I flooed your entire family trying to find you. I even tried your mobile." 

He had forced Ron to get a cell phone since carrying wands in the muggle world was now frowned upon. After the war, young witches and wizards flooded the streets of Muggle London and there were too many breaches in the statue of secrecy. New laws were made, but they still needed some way to contact each other.

Ron didn't turn to face him. "I've been busy with something." 

"Something," Harry said flatly, deeply unimpressed. 

"I need some time away from here to think." 

Harry's heart sank. "About what?" 

"About everything...the wedding." 

"What's there to think about? You and Hermione are perfect for each other." 

Ron tensed, saying nothing. A long silence followed. 

"So you're not staying here?" 

Ron shook his head, still refusing to turn around. 

Harry pursed his lips, unable inhibit himself because of the alcohol. "But what about me?" 

More silence. 

"You?" 

Harry frowned. Wasn't it obvious what he meant? He was drunk and horny. He needed his mate-with-benifits right now. Was Ron going to force him to say it out loud? 

"Our...arrangement." 

"That arrangement is no more. We have to stop like you said. For real this time." 

"Ron." Harry was aiming for reproachful, but his voice came out all wrong, whiny and pouty. What was it about Ron that reduced him to a child? It was seriously baffling. 

Ron laughed. "Don't, Harry. Just don't. Surely you don't think I'll put my personal life on hold until you get over your fixation on my cock?" 

Harry frowned again. "But you're my best mate," he said, but it came out unsure. 

"I'm pretty sure fucking you isn't among my duties as best friend," Ron said. He no longer sounded amused as he zipped his bag. Harry wasn't sure what was in Ron's voice, but whatever it was, he didn't like it. 

"Of course it's not your duty," he said quickly. "I just..." His face became hot. Harry cleared his throat, turning to leave the room. "Never mind. You're right. I'll...I'll figure something out." 

But Ron caught his arm before he could leave. "What do you mean you'll figure something out?" 

"There are always toys...and you aren't the only man with a cock, right?" Harry added with forced humor, trying to ignore his uneasiness. 

"Right."

Harry chewed on his lip, feeling confused by the strange tension and Ron's intense gaze. His and Ron's friendship had always been easy. It had no place for weird silences. 

Ron pushed passed him, bag in in hand towards the floo. Harry was floundering. Did this mean their friendship was over? Did Ron think that Harry only needed him only for his cock? 

"I'm meeting Cormac this weekend. First date was great. I think it could really be something." 

Ron stiffened, pausing at the floo.

"Good luck with that," he said without turning around. 

And then he was gone. 

Just like that.

Harry glared at the floo, ugly disappointment churning in the pit of his stomach. This wasn't the reunion he had in mind. Were they even friends anymore? Was Ron really sick of him? Hating how insecure and upset he felt, Harry cut off that train of thought. His jaw set, he wrote a letter to confirm Saturday with Cormac. He didn't bloody need Ron. He could totally be fine without him.

And he was going to prove it. 

__________________________________________________________

By the time Saturday rolled around, Harry was going mad. He hadn't seen Ron all week and was desperate for a cock, any cock at this point, so he booked a hotel in muggle London for him and Cormac where no one would recognize them. Was it presumptuous? Probably, but he had been dropping hints to Cormac all week and had no doubt in his mind that Cormac would be up for a shag. They met in the hotel lobby and had a few drinks before going up. 

The minute the door closed, Cormac's slimy paws were all over him as he thrust his tongue in his mouth and removed Harry's shirt. It felt wrong and vaguely disgusting. 

"I don't like kissing." 

Cormac just laughed as he began to disrobe and lay on the bed. "Okay, shagging it is then. Get up here and sit on my cock." 

Cormac was naked on the bed. He had an okay body, but Ron's was fair superior as he was a gym freak. Cormac's beer belly and shoulder acne by contrast were revolting. His cock was far smaller than Ron's and leaned to the left. Harry wasn't aroused in the least. All week he was horny, looking forward to this, but now he felt absolutely nothing except for the growing urge to run. What was wrong with him?

"Mate, I don't have all night. Bloody get over here." Cormac said, starting to sound annoyed.

Harry took a step back, eyeing the guy warily. He only now noticed that there was a slur to his voice and his face was suspiciously red. They had a few drinks and Harry was a little buzzed, but not drunk. He recalled the smell of alcohol on Cormac's breath when they had met up. He must have had a few before they met and wasn't sober at all. how the hell had he missed that? Some auror he was. 

"I..," Harry said uncertainly, taking a step back. "Look, I'm sorry, but I don't want to do this." 

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Cormac gritted out, his fists clenched. They were huge. 

"Look there's no need to be upset-" 

"You little cocktease! Get over here,"Cormac strode towards him, his expression downright menacing. 

Harry reached for his wand, but it wasn't there.

Pure panic set in. 

He had left it home because they were in muggle London. His wandless magic never worked when he had alcohol in his system. So he did the only thing he could in his tipsy state, he ran into the bathroom and locked it. Cormac pounded on the door, swearing and yelling at Harry the way only a drunk person would. Did he forget who he was dealing with? 

"Calm the fuck down," Harry said both to himself and to Cormac. He tried disapparating, but it wasn't working. No matter, he could totally stand his own against him. He had defeated Voldemort and survived his own death twice. He had no wand but he could probably take him, maybe. For fuck's sake, he worked out six days a week. Except having the muscles didn't mean much if you didn't know how to use them. He never really threw punches before. That was Ron's thing. 

_Ron._

Incredibly happy he still had his jeans on and his phone was in his pocket, he pulled out his phone and dialed his number, praying to merlin he answered. 

"Are you joking?" Ron said when Harry explained the situation. "Tell me you're joking." 

"I don't have my wand and there's a drunk, angry, horny Cormac outside the bathroom," Harry hissed, wincing as Cormac shoved hard against the door. "Come here. You can make fun of me later."

Ron hung up. 

_What if he didn't come?_

Well, that would answer once and for all the question of whether Ron was sick of him or not, wouldn't it? 

_________________________________________

Not a minute went by when he heard the loud crack of apparition through the door. 

"Get dressed and get out," Ron's voice said. 

"This is none of your business, Weasley. Stay out of it." 

Silence, then Ron bit off, "Get out." 

There must have been something convincing on his face, because Cormac seemed to give up, grumbling under his breath. Before long, Harry heard the door slam shut. 

"Harry?" 

Harry stood and unlocked the door. He'd never been so happy to see Rons' face. He gave him his best sheepish look. "Thanks, mate. You're a lifesaver!" 

A muscle twitched in Ron's jaw, his blue eyes stormy as he pinned Harry with a withering look.

"What did you think you were doing?" Ron bit out, grabbing Harry's shoulders and shaking him. "No wand. Getting piss drunk with a bloke you hardly know- in a dingy hotel in muggle London, where no one would give a shit if he raped you or fucking murdered you?" 

"I'm not drunk. He was I suppose to know he would turn up wasted?" Harry said, not appreciating Ron's tone. 

Ron glowered. "You could have told him to leave when you saw he wasn't sober - you know, before he got naked and horny. Are you that desperate for cock?" 

Harry felt his ears burn. "You're starting to piss me off, mate." 

"Me?" Ron said, his fingers digging into his shoulders, hard. "It's fucking two in the morning. I have to be at my parents in a few hours, but I have to rescue your ass from some drunk git because you're thirsty for cock but too much of a chicken to act like an adult about it." 

"Fuck you," Harry bit off, trying to free himself from Ron's grip. "You shouldn't have come if it was such a bother." Hating how thick his voice got and hoping to distract Ron, Harry went on the offensive. 

"Why are you so angry? You've saved me from far more ridiculous situations. I thought you'd mock me, not chew me out. What the hell? Why are you so pissed off?" 

Ron's jaw tightened. "I'm pissed off," he said very evenly, "because you're too bloody careless. You could've gotten hurt. I'm angry because I was worried, you twat." 

Harry frowned, his anger draining out of him. 

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, dropping his gaze. 

Ron sighed, tugging him into a loose hug. "Just don't do it again," he said. 

The hug felt so damn good, just what Harry needed after days of uncertainty and self-doubt. Ron's scent was weirdly calming. It felt like he was breathing freely for the first time in a week. Ron was still his best mate. Everything was right with the world. 

"I would have chickened out even if he weren't drunk," he said quietly, pressing his nose to the juncture between Ron's neck and shoulder. 

"Why?" 

Harry's breath caught in his throat. He wished he could confess everything, but Ron was getting married in a few months. There was Hermione's happiness to think about too. No, he would keep his feelings inside if it killed him. He would take them to the grave. The only thing it would do was push his best mate away forever. He could imagine the look of pity on his face in his mind. 

He shrugged. "Did you figure out the wedding stuff?" 

Ron forced Harry's head back to face him. "Don't change the subject. Why?" 

Harry put his face back into Ron's neck. "Just rotten luck is all. Cormac is a wanker. I couldn't imagine letting him fuck me. Gross. I didn't even want his cock - not really." 

For a long moment, Ron said nothing, his hands on the small of Harry's back.

"You want mine." It was a statement, uttered in a strange tone.

"No, I mean..."Harry licked his lips. "I do miss it," he mumbled, glad that Ron couldn't see his flushed face.

"My cock," Ron stated, in the same strange, clipped tone. 

Harry nodded. "I know: arrangement's off," he said sulkily. It was just so bloody _unfair._ When Harry called it off, it never held. Now that Ron had decided, Harry was just suppose to accept it? Maybe he wasn't factoring Hermione's role in this. It was amazing how he created a full mental block against her place in Ron's life, as if Hermione had nothing to do with them at all. But maybe that was an oversight on his part. 

Harry bit his lip to keep from saying it because it was none of his bloody business. "Have you...slept with Hermione yet?"

His hands gripped Harry's shoulders hard. "What's it to you?" 

Harry shrugged. "Just curious. Pureblood customs and all that." 

He didn't like thinking of Ron's pretty cock in anyone else, even his future wife. Just imagining it made his fists clench and his teeth ache from how hard he was gritting them. Merlin, he was daft. He'd always known it would stop after the wedding, but he wasn't married...yet. 

Ron laughed. There was something unfamiliar in that laugh, some sharp edge Harry didn't like. 

"You're fucking unbelievable," Ron said. "You think my cock is your property until the wedding. Is that right?" 

Harry eyed him warily, his stomach fluttering with nerves. It was weird, but the man speaking to him sounded nothing like his best friend. It was like looking at a different person, a total stranger. There was none of the exasperated, long suffering affection Ron usually looked at him with. Instead, there was something mean and hard in Ron's eyes. 

"I asked you a question," Ron said flatly. 

"I don't like your tone," Harry said, trying to hide his discomfort. "I'm your best mate, remember?" 

A crooked, bitter smile appeared on Ron's lips. "But you don't want your best mate." His hand slipped down to Harry's ass and _squeezed._ Ron watched him with dark, inscrutable eyes. "All you want is cock. You're nothing but a cock slut." 

"You're going to get hexed if you don't cut it out," Harry said, glowering at him. For some mysterious reason, he had a boner, but that was totally irrelevant. 

Ron looked him in the eye and pressed his fingers against Harry's crack, the pressure maddening even through the denim. "All you want is cock. I bet if you had a pussy, you would be _dripping_ all the time." 

A small whine left Harry's lips. He stared at Ron wide-eyed. 

Ron studied him for a moment, his gaze dark and assessing. Then he slipped his fingers under Harry's jeans and stroked lightly over Harry's sensitive hole. 

"Look at you," Ron said, rubbing his finger over his hole. "You're all wet and eager already and I barely touched you." Ron pushed a finger in and Harry shuddered. So what he prepped himself before meeting Cormac. It didn't-it didn't make him _wet._ What was Ron playing at?

"Do you want my cock in your pussy?" 

"Shut up, shut up, shut up," Harry said weakly, even though his body was pushing back on Ron's finger. Fuck, he'd never felt so desperate for anything in his life and so freaked out. Why was this was so damn arousing?

Harry pressed his forehead against Ron's shoulder, his breathing harsh and his heart pounding. He didn't know why this was turning him on. He wasn't a woman. He didn't have a damn pussy. He was a guy and very fond of his cock and balls, thank you very much. 

"Do you imagine I'm a woman?" 

Ron scoffed. "No. A bit hard to miss your lack of boobs _mate_."

He pulled his finger out. 

Harry whined. "Ron." 

"Want my cock?" 

"Please."

Ron's teeth grazed against his ear. "Do you want it in your cunt?" 

Harry bit his lip, hard. He refused to say that. "Why are you being such a prick?" 

"Do you want my cock in your cunt?" Ron said again, harder, pushing his fingers against Harry's perineum. 

"Yes!" Harry snapped. He was totally going to get back at Ron for this - after Ron finally gave him what he wanted. 

"Then be a good girl: lose your clothes, get on that bed, and spread your legs for me." 

Flushed from humiliation and anger - and ridiculous arousal - Harry did as he was told. He watched Ron undress unhurriedly, his hooded eyes on Harry's naked body. There was still something dark and unfamiliar in his gaze, that mean edge that made Harry both nervous and horny as hell. 

His mouth watered at the sight of Ron's exposed cock. Shit, he wanted to suck it. 

But Ron wouldn't let him. He got on the bed and swathed Harry with his body, kissing him everywhere. He kissed his mouth a long time. Harry kept turning his head, trying to get on with it, but Ron grabbed his jaw firmly. 

"Enough kissing. I'm not your girlfriend," he said lightly, smiling.

Ron's brows furrowed, his gaze hardening. 

"You will kiss me for as long as I want or you're not getting my cock," his voice hard. His gaze was frightening in its intensity. 

Harry said nothing as Ron resumed kissing him. He felt absolutely overwhelmed by his deep kisses. Ron kissed him hard and without reservation for what felt like hours, until Harry was a quivering mess. 

"Ready for my cock, sweetheart?" Ron said, his voice sounding nothing like his normal one. He sucked hard on his nipple. "Are you nice and wet for me?" 

"I'm going to hex you for this shit later," Harry said weakly, grinding his crotch against Ron's stomach. He was so fucking hard. "Get in me, you prick." 

Ron's eyes looked from Harry's erection to his face. 

"You don't look very offended to me." 

Harry didn't know what to say to that. He could only stare at Ron dazedly, gasping every time Ron's cock bumped against his sensitive hole. "You're being a right asshole," he managed. 

"No," Ron said, spreading Harry's thighs wider and pressing his cock in. "I'm just done coming up with excuses for your shit." 

Harry's eyes rolled into the back of his head as Ron's cock f _inally_ \- filled him up. Although he'd been using toys and prepped himself, it had been a week since he'd had something as big as Ron in him. Merlin, he missed this, this feeling. He even liked the way his thighs were stretched wide to accommodate Ron's hips. He felt slutty and helpless and he loved that. 

Ron's eyes were half-closed, his jaw tight as if he were in pain. "Good?" he said, his tone clipped. 

Harry nodded weakly. "So good," And before he could stop himself, "love your cock." 

Ron looked at him without a smile, something grim and hard about his expression. 

"Say thank you." 

"What?" Harry let out a laugh. 

Ron didn't laugh. 

"Say thank you," he said, pulling out and driving right against Harry's prostate. Crying out, Harry arched off the bed, his fingernails digging into Ron's back. Ron gave another short vicious thrust against his prostate. "Thank me for my cock." 

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Harry managed, but it didn't sound very convincing, considering that it came out as a breathless moan. It felt so good, the thick length inside him just perfect, moving in him just right. Nothing felt better than lying on his back and taking Ron's cock. 

"I'm absolutely serious," Ron said. "You missed my cock, and I'm giving it to you. The least you can do is thank me. I'm waiting." And then the bastard stopped moving. 

Ron just looked at him steadily. The bead of sweat running down his forehead was the only thing betraying that it was hard for him to be so still inside of him. "Fine," he said, and started pulling out. 

"Wait!"

Ron stilled and looked back at him, the tip of his cock tickling Harry's entrance. It was maddening. 

Biting his bottom lip, Harry gave Ron a pleading look. "I didn't - I don't really get why you're so angry at me, but I'm sorry anyway. Come on, mate -'

Ron glowered at him. "Don't. You can't give me eyes and expect me to forgive you everything. It won't work anymore." 

But - but that's how they _worked._ Yet _,_ it would appear that Ron's long-suffering indulgent attitude was over. He was done using kid gloves. How was he suppose to make Ron forgive him for whatever he did now? He didn't know how to handle this unfriendly, mean Ron. 

Maybe he could just say whatever Ron wanted him to? It wouldn't kill him, right? 

"Thank you!" he blurted out. "Thank you for giving me your cock." Harry whispered, blushing furiously.

Ron's Adam apple bobbed. His hips jerked, slamming his cock inside, and Harry moaned, embarrassingly high-pitched. Ron leaned down and kissed him, hard and greedy. Ron's cock pressed against his prostate, and Harry shuddered, his head thrown back, his arms clinging to Ron's shoulders. They moved together, low moans and grunts accompanying the slapping sounds of their bodies. Harry could also hear himself say some embarrassing shit, but he didn't seem able to stop. 

"Oh, oh, fucking hell-yeah, yeah, just like that. Harder - so good - ah, ah, ahh." 

Fuck, he was so close. A firm hand wrapped around his neglected cock and stroked once. 

Harry arched off the mattress and came, crying out as his body shook with immense pleasure, clenching around Ron's cock. It felt like his every nerve was singing with pleasure. He was only vaguely aware that Ron came too and went still, breathing hard on top of him. 

"I'm still gonna hex you for that shit you said," Harry mumbled breathlessly. "That kind of dirty talk isn't cool." Never mind that it had been a ridiculous turn-on. 

Ron grunted and rolled off him onto his back. He closed his eyes. 

Harry poked him in his bicep. "Did you hear what I said." 

"Go to sleep, Harry," Ron said, without opening his eyes. 

"But that was really weird, mate," Harry insisted. "I'm not into that kind of shit." 

Ron opened his eyes and met Harry's gaze steadily. "Just like you aren't into me, right?" 

Harry felt his face become uncomfortably warm. "Is that a trick question?" he said warily. 

Ron's lips twisted. "Go to sleep, Harry," he said, closing his eyes again. 

"But..." 

"I'm not in the mood for this," Ron said flatly, turning on his stomach and burying his face into the pillow. 

Harry closed his mouth. 

He lay awake for a long time, long after Ron's breathing became even. 

Harry felt too freaked out to fall asleep. He wasn't even freaking out because of all the dirty talk. He was freaking out because he didn't know how to handle this hard-eyed, unfriendly Ron. 

It bloody scared him. 

Had he finally managed to ruin their friendship?

______________________________________________________

The following weeks were the strangest in Harry's life. 

His and Ron's friendship seemed totally broken. They had plenty of sex, but Ron was...different.

Sometimes Harry caught Ron staring at him really intensely, as if Harry was the most interesting thing in the world. Other times Ron would barely look at him, and even when he did, his gaze would be hard and unkind. It was all so very confusing. Harry didn't know how to handle this Ron. He wasn't sure he even _liked_ this Ron. 

This Ron was a bit of an asshole, to be honest, but Harry's stupid body seemed weirdly into that asshole and into all the things Ron had forced on him lately. 

These days, they barely even talked. Ron avoided him at work best he could. Then at night, he would just show up at their flat, and they'd fuck. Like Harry tried to just hang out like friends a few times, but Ron wasn't very responsive to his attempt to restore the balance. Ron seemed to be _always_ in the mood for sex when he arrived, ignoring Harry's weak attempts at conversation and just manhandling him until Harry's ass or mouth were full of Ron's cock. And then he'd leave. Back to Hermione's he imagined. He wouldn't know. Too afraid to ask. 

On a night after they had an uncommonly rough shag, Ron stayed a bit and said the last thing Harry expected to hear. 

"So. Are you excited for my wedding? It's coming up." 

A funny feeling of dread settled into the pit of Harry's stomach, but he ignored it. 

"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" 

Harry realized how ridiculous a scene he must have made, lying there naked, snuggled into Ron's side, cheeks flushed from the rigorous shag they just had. All the while, discussing his wedding to another person. 

"You won't have access to my cock anymore after the wedding."

Harry didn't like his smug tone, but he laughed anyway, and he was surprised at how genuine it sounded. All his practice must have paid off. 

"I think I'll live." 

Ron scoffed, "But you're such a needy slag. You'll probably demand I fuck you right before I walk down the aisle." 

Harry spluttered, outraged. Why was Ron saying these things to him? 

"Don't be ridiculous." 

"Are you saying you wouldn't spread your legs for me on my wedding day?"

"Of course I wouldn't!" 

Ron's fingers slipped lower and touched Harry's slick, loosened hole. Harry fought the urge to squirm He was still tender and sensitive after the sex. He glared at Ron. 

Ron had the nerve to smile, but it wasn't friendly. "You sure you wouldn't?" he said in a conversational tone, massaging Harry's hole and teasing the oversensitive rim by slipping the tip of his finger in and out. "Morning of, you would be all dolled up and pretty in your best man's robes helping me get ready," Ron said, teasing his quivering entrance.

"Hermione will be waiting for me at the altar." He pushed the finger deep, stretching him deliciously. Merlin. 

"But I'll be late," Ron said, pushing the finger in and out but avoiding Harry's prostate. "We'll both be late because you'll be too busy moaning under me." 

"No," Harry grounded out, painfully hard despite coming twenty minutes ago and the disturbing picture Ron painted for him. Why was he being such an asshole? Harry always had the ability to avoid thinking about his _other_ best mate while they did this. Ron never brought her up. The mere idea of Ron fucking him while Hermione waited for him was filthy, wrong, and -- "No," he said shakily, his voice cracking as Ron added another finger. 

"Yes." Ron crooked his fingers a little. Harry shuddered, a moan slipping from his lips. "Yes, just like that. You're a slut for me and always will be." 

"No-"

"Yes, you are," Ron said, his voice clipped. He pushed his fingers against Harry's prostate, again and again.

"Hermione will be waiting for me at the altar while you're stuffed with my cock, begging me to fuck you harder. Eventually, someone will come looking for us and everyone will find out what a dirty little whore you are." 

Harry groaned and bit Ron's pec, horrified over the words coming out of Ron's mouth, more horrified still, that they were turning him on. 

He latched onto Ron's tiny, hard nipple and sucked greedily as his ass clenched around Ron's merciless fingers. He felt close to sobbing already, his hole sensitive and overstimulated after hours of sex and now this...merlin. He moved back onto the fingers, wanting them deeper, but Ron tightened his grip in his hair, not letting him move. 

"And you know the best part?" Ron said hoarsely, fucking him with three fingers now. "Even with people watching, you won't be able to stop begging me for my cock. You'll come, clinging to me and moaning _my_ name." He slammed his fingers against Harry's prostate and Harry saw stars. He whimpered and came, his hole clenching around Ron's fingers. 

By the time he could think again, Ron had removed his fingers and had his muscular arms crossed under his head, a picture of masculine nonchalance and cool confidence, bordering on smugness. 

"What are you playing at?" his voice wrecked and raspy. He wasn't even sure why he felt on the verge of tears. 

Ron shrugged and began to get dressed. 

"I have to get going." 

"Go then." 

And he was gone, without so much as a backwards glance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hides*  
> Why is Ron torturing poor Harry? DID YOU LIKE IT? Should I even continue? Too angsty?  
> PLEASE kudos and comment if you'd like more.


	5. Chapter 5

"Harry, we haven't seen you in ages. Tell us all about being an auror then." 

Harry looked longingly at the door as he gave some noncommittal answer. He absolutely hated house parties, but he had promised Dean and Seamus he would come to this one. He loathed being the center of attention, but he could usually manage it with Ron by his side who deflected all the questions expertly. The git was nowhere to be found. 

Harry pulled out his mobile and walked away, pretending that someone called him. He felt lame, but anything was better than than standing in the spotlight in front of all these people. 

"Why are you faking a phone call, you loser?" a familiar voice mocked him gently from behind. 

Harry froze before slowly turning around.

Ron was smirking at him a little, nursing a drink.

Harry beamed, a wave of relief washing over him. Ron was _looking_ at him like he used to, with fond exasperation and amusement. It had been ages since he looked at him like that. Harry was man enough to admit he'd been scared. Scared that he'd never see this version of Ron again. 

Ron's eyebrows crept upwards. "Are you feeling all right?" he said, taking a sip from his drink. 

"Yeah. Why?" 

"You were looking like someone died, but now you're grinning like an idiot." 

Harry scowled at him, but it was half-hearted at best. He missed being on the receiving end of Ron's good-natured ribbing. 

"Oh, piss off," he said with a smile.

So his best mate was back. They chatted amiably for a long while. It was a relief, but it was also weirding him out that Ron could act so normal, so nonchalant and friendly, as if he wasn't the same hard-eyed man who pushed him around, fucked him, and whispered horrible, humiliating things into his ear as he took Harry apart. It was giving Harry whiplash. Either Ron was faking it now, or...what was the alternative? Harry didn't know. 

Which version of Ron was real? 

After an hour, with Ron by his side, little by little he started relaxing. But he hadn't realized that he was following Ron around like a puppy until Pavarti pointed it out. 

"I see you guys are still as sickening as back in school," she joked, grinning. "More so actually." 

Harry kind of froze, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. Only after telling himself that she couldn't possibly know that he and Ron were shagging, he forced himself to smile. "I can't get rid of him, no matter how hard I try," he said with an exaggerated sigh. 

"I think it's nice. I wish I kept in touch with all my school friends." 

Harry made a commiserating noise, all the while trying not to worry. Was he being _clingy?_ He looked around and only now noticed that the only people who moved around in pairs were couples, _fuck._

Harry walked away from Ron, determined to stop behaving like a clingy girlfriend. Ron had an actual girlfriend for that.

He lasted fifteen minutes. He was acutely aware of the distance between himself and Ron at all times, as if they were bound by invisible ropes. It was maddening. It had never been this bad before. 

"Hey where's Hermione?" someone asked him suddenly, touching his elbow. 

Harry shrugged, but then he realized it was a good excuse, ahem, _reason,_ to go back to Ron's side. 

"Where have you been off to?" Ron murmured absentmindedly, putting a hand on his lower back. 

Harry went still, his eyes widening. Was it normal best mate behavior? It was just a hand, but it felt large and warm on his back. Did it look friendly? It certainly didn't _feel_ friendly. He should move away. He should...

Harry fucking couldn't. All of his senses seemed to be heightened, and the world around him slowed. All he could think about was that hand, the weight of it. He imagined it slipping it lower, just a bit, until Ron's fingers grazed the skin between Harry's t-shirt and the waistband of his jeans. Then maybe Ron's fingers would slip under his jeans and stroke his crack, rub his hole until he was was wet and aching -

Harry felt like slapping himself. What the _hell?_ Unlike the other times Harry had found himself ridiculously turned on when Ron treated him like a girl, they weren't in bed. This kinky, freaky shit had no place in the middle of Dean's living room where they were surrounded by their old classmates and Ron was acting like a platonic mate. Harry never had this problem in the past. It was all Ron's fault, of course, for manhandling him into submission all the time and putting all those freaky ideas into his head. 

"You okay?" Ron said quietly, leaning into Harry's ear. 

Harry breathed shallowly, trying _not_ to breath in the familiar scent of Ron's aftershave. He wasn't okay. This wasn't okay. 

"Where's Hermione?" he blurted out. 

Ron shrugged, his face closing off and his eyes hardening. Harry was no longer looking at his best mate. This was the man he had become intimately familiar with very recently. A man who looked at him with dark, unkind eyes and whose thoughts were impossible to read. This Ron also had a horrible, terrible, no good effect on Harry's body. 

Harry frowned, utterly confused at the switch. He eyed Ron warily. His gaze moved over Ron's lean cheeks and strong jaw, over his firm sensual lips as they curled a little to give Seamus a fleeting smile. 

Harry wet his own lips and tore his gaze away. 

What the fuck. 

After a few minutes of telling himself that he hadn't just ogled his best mate in public, Harry looked back at Ron. Harry's gaze moved lower to Ron's thick neck, lingering on his Adam's apple, then to his wide shoulders and muscular chest that looked downright obscene in that blue button-down. Ron's shirt was so thin that his muscles seem ready to burst through the cotton. Harry could even see his nipples. Ron should be arrested for public indecency. Seriously, what the fuck was this shit? 

More than a little warm, Harry looked away. For fuck's sake, Harry never had this problem before. It was one thing to ogle his best mate's cock when they were naked in the shower together, quite another when they were in best-mate mode, fully clothed, surrounded by friends.

Had he just ogled his best mate again? No, of course not. It was the ridiculous shirt. Anyone would look. 

Relaxing a little, Harry allowed himself to look at Ron again. This time, he stared at the veins on Ron's forearms, then at his long, strong fingers wrapped around the glass. The glass was lifted to Ron's lips and Harry watched helplessly as Ron's Adam's apple moved. It was oddly mesmerizing. 

His mouth dry, Harry accidentally glanced up and found his eyes locked with Ron's - who had been apparently watching him. 

Harry flushed. 

Ron's gaze seemed to become sharper. He leaned in and murmured, his lips almost brushing Harry's earlobe. 

"You all right? You look flushed."

"Yes," Harry lied, absolutely mortified by how breathless he sounded. He wasn't fucking all right. This shouldn't be happening. All his suppressed feelings for Ron rose up inside him like a tsunami. Taken, he's fucking _taken. By your other best mate._ Except his lungs weren't getting the message.

That thought was usually enough to suppress his longing, but not now. Not after Ron's treatment. He couldn't breath.

Maybe he just needed to put some physical distance between them. 

"But, maybe you're right- I don't feel so good," Harry mumbled, avoiding Ron's gaze. He strode away before Ron could say anything. 

Finding the nearest loo, Harry shut the door behind him and stared at the mirror. His face really was flushed, his eyes glassy. Fucking hell. He looked bloody high. 

"He's getting married," Harry said. Saying it aloud didn't help. It did nothing to kill the arousal buzzing under his skin. It did nothing to make him stop _wanting._ He slid to the floor burying his head between his knees. 

He didn't know how long he stayed like that when the door behind him budged. "Harry? You there?" 

Springing to his feet, Harry walked to the sink and splashed cool water over his flushed face. 

Behind him, the door opened and closed. "You okay?" 

"I'm fine, Ron," Harry managed, without turning around. 

A hand touched his shoulder. "Look at me." 

Harry snorted a laugh. "I'd rather not." 

"Why?" 

_Because you're the last fucking person I need to be around right now._

"Just go, mate," Harry said tightly. He felt fragile, worn thin at the edges, something horrible building in his chest, a desperate need that was quickly becoming overwhelming. 

"Something you want to tell me?" Ron asked. 

There was a long silence where Harry could feel Ron looking at him in the mirror but he couldn't meet his eyes. He was afraid if he did, he would do something stupid.

Harry shook his head.

After some silence, Ron spoke quietly, "I'm reconsidering the wedding." 

Harry's head snapped up, meeting his hard, unfriendly gaze in the mirror, eyes wide. 

"What? Why?" 

"Why do you think?" Ron's penetrating accusing eyes met his in the mirror, and it finally clicked. 

For a split second, Harry's dreams of being together with Ron in their flat until they grew old stretched before him. They'd rib each other endlessly and shag all the time, maybe have a few kids running around. Could Ron truly love him as more than a best mate? He almost smiled, then reality set in and the fantasy disappeared in a puff of smoke. 

So this was the reason for this new mean, unfriendly Ron. He didn't love him; he was punishing him. The way Harry looked at it, this was a lose-lose situation. Ron was mostly straight and his dreams of the future always included a wife and kids. With _Hermione._ Merlin, he loved Hermione. It would be so much easier if she were some random girl, like Lavender. Harry would have no qualms then. Ron would just end up resenting him in the end. He could feel it already...Maybe Harry was just scared, but he couldn't risk it. Couldn't risk losing the most important people in his life. 

If Ron married Hermione, however, both of those friendships would remain in tact. It would be as they always planned, no uncertainty involved. Harry was sure he'd eventually find some gay bloke to settled down with, an uncomplicated relationship that didn't involve hurting everyone involved. 

"I'm sorry, Ron."

"You're sorry? Is that all?" 

Harry cleared his throat nervously and steeled himself. "Our fooling around can't be the reason you upend your life plans. I couldn't live with myself. Hermione's the best girl we know. You _should_ marry her." 

Ron looked at him carefully. "Is that really what you want?" 

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. 

Run puffed out an exasperated breath as Harry stared at him in the mirror. This was the hard-eyed man he had been sleeping with, not his laid back best friend. 

Harry still needed him. 

He didn't know what was written on his face, but something flickered in Ron's eyes and Ron's hands settled on his arms. Harry shuddered and sagged back against Ron, suppressing a whimper. He closed his eyes as Ron's arms wrapped around him, pulling him in tighter. 

"Harry," he said, his voice strained. "Do you enjoy fucking with my head?" 

"I...What do you mean?" 

Ron wasn't looking at him, his jaw set into tight lines. "Sometimes I really fucking hate you," he said quietly. 

So it was true. Ron didn't love him at all. He already resented him 

"Right," he said awkwardly, freeing himself from Ron's arms, turning to face him. "Look, I'm sorry for being such a mess. I think...I think I'm broken inside, since the war, I mean. There's something wrong with me. I know you must be tired of dealing with my...neediness." 

"What the fuck Harry? You can be a bit of a twat sometimes, but you aren't broken. There's nothing bloody wrong with you. Got it?" There was the familiar look of exasperation in Ron's eyes, and it was unmistakably fond. 

A smile tugged at Harry's lips. Before he could think twice, he lunged forward and pecked Ron on the mouth. 

They both froze. 

Harry had _never_ kissed him outside of the bedroom. Harry never kissed him, full stop. It was always Ron who initiated the kisses in the bedroom. Right now, they were in their classmate's loo, with all their friends just outside the door. What was wrong with him?

Ron's expression was very strange. 

"Right," Harry said with a chuckle. "That was weird, yeah? Let's pretend I didn't do that -" 

Ron shoved him against the sink and kissed him. Harry gasped, his knees turning into jelly. He grabbed the edge of the sink, his eyes slipping shut. He could only hold on and let Ron devour his mouth, small sounds leaving his lips as he sucked on Ron's tongue. He knew they should stop, but his body refused to do anything but take, and melt, and want. 

Finally after what felt like forever, Ron stopped kissing him and looked at him with dark, glazed eyes. "Pull my cock out." 

"Are you crazy? There are people just outside the door." 

"I locked it. Pull my cock out." 

"There's no way we're fucking in here." 

"I'm not going to fuck you. You're going to pull me cock out and wank me off."

They were in public, for merlin's sake. This was an act of indecent lovers who couldn't keep their hands off each other, not casual fuck buddies. This was crossing the line. There would be no going back from this.

Harry started shaking his head when Ron leaned in and said in his ear, "Come on sweetheart. I know you're desperate for me, but you can wait until we get home, right? I'll fuck you nice and hard, until your pussy is sopping wet and sore from my cock."

Harry shivered, a whimper rising in his throat. Slipping a hand between them, he tugged at the zipper of Ron's trousers with shaking fingers until his hand finally closed Ron's hot erection. He stroked it hard and fast as Ron whispered filth in his ear, saying what a good girl what he was, how good his hand felt, how badly Ron wanted to spread Harry's legs right there and push into his wet hole. It was humiliating. It was emasculating. It was stupidly arousing. Harry found himself helplessly grinding against Ron's hard thigh until his vision went black and he came in his fucking pants. He didn't notice Ron come too, but he must have: Harry's hand was sticky. They were both breathing hard, wrapped in a half embrace. Harry was glad for the hard sink behind him or he would have fallen over. 

At last, Ron cleared his throat and stepped back. He tucked his cock back in, zipped up and washed he hands. Finally, he looked at Harry. Something flashed through his eyes.

"You look like a mess, Harry," he said, his voice light and amused, as if he wasn't the man who'd just taken Harry apart with nothing but filthy words. So his best mate was back. 

Dazedly, Harry looked down at the wet patch on his jeans and made a face, using his wand to clean himself up.

He turned to the mirror and tried to make himself presentable, determined to act as if nothing weird had happened. As if nothing had changed. 

Because nothing had. 

___________________________________________________________________

But everything changed. Now that the floodgates were opened, Harry couldn't shut them again. He seemed completely unable to see Ron as a best mate no matter what 'mode' they were in or where they were. 

Work was always a safe space for their friendship. Yet Harry couldn't stop drooling over his friend in his auror robes, his eyes lingering helplessly on the curve of Ron's mouth, his firm jaw, and his ridiculously fit body. It was fucking horrible. _The worst._ Especially because Ron didn't seem to be having the same problem. After that hand job in the loo, he thought Ron would become more daring, drag Harry in a ministry supply closet during lunch or something to that effect. But he didn't and Harry felt stupidly disappointed. Ron seemed actually more determined to act like his best mate outside of the bedroom which was both a relief and a huge let-down. Merlin, it was all so confusing. 

Harry longed for the days when being at the ministry was a sure fire way to turn his desire off and let him focus on other things, like his actual job, the thing he was suppose to be doing at this very moment. They were being briefed on a high profile case in a large dimly lit auditorium. Most of the light was focused on Kingsley, while the people in the seats were cast in almost total darkness. Bloody candlelight, when were wizards going to invest in electricity? It might be useful considering they worked in a glorified basement. The entire ministry was underground. 

All the aurors were in attendance, and Ron and Harry were seated at the back. Harry had not one bloody clue what Kingsley was talking about, too busy imagining climbing on Ron's lap, shoving his tongue down Ron's throat before sitting on his cock. Even Harry's nipples were hard and oversensitive against his shirt, aching for Ron's attention - his hands, his mouth, _anything._

Harry dug his fingers in his own thighs, hoping that the pain would erase the totally insane thoughts from his mind. 

Suddenly, the hall erupted into outcries at something Kingsley was saying. 

Harry flinched, startled and confused. 

Ron flung his arm around him in a bro-like manner, in a way he'd done a thousand times before. "All right?" 

Harry stared unseeingly at Kingsley who may as well be speaking greek, breathing slowly and evenly so that Ron didn't guess that he was practically shaking with effort not to lean into him. Bloody hell, what was wrong with him? 

"You're trembling. Is it the case?" 

Harry nodded. 

Ron chuckled, "We've seen a lot worse than this." 

Harry shrugged and pretended to listen to Kingsley for a while, but his fantasies took flight. Ron sucking his cock, eating him out. Ron's cock fucking his mouth. Ron's tongue in his mouth as his cock pounded into Harry's non-existent pussy. That was the other thing.

"Do you think I'm a freak for getting off on...you know?" Harry whispered. 

He felt Ron's breathing hitch. Of course Ron was surprised. They never really talked about what they got up to in bed - and definitely not at work. Harry couldn't believe it himself, but the darkness must be giving him courage. 

After a while, Ron shrugged. "It's just a sexual fantasy," his tone neutral, quiet enough so that no one heard. "It is just a fantasy right? Because it's absolutely okay if it isn't." 

Harry never felt so uncomfortable in his life. "I'm not transsexual," he mumbled, his face warm. That, he was sure of. There was a big difference between a transexual kink and transsexuality. 

"I guess I'm just a freak who's into some kinky shit," he murmured, making a face. 

Ron pulled Harry closer. "Stop that. You're not a freak, Harry." 

Harry shivered from the closer contact, instantly craving more. When Ron started pulling away, Harry couldn't stop a soft whine escaping his throat. Luckily, no one turned around but Ron definitely heard. 

Ron paused and looked at him. Harry was pretty sure he couldn't read his expression well in such dim light, but something must have given him away. Ron inhaled sharply, his hand tightening on Harry's shoulder. 

"Harry," he said, a clear warning in his voice. 

The entire auror team was a few feet in front of them, for fuck's sake. Their no-strings-attached sexual relationship was never suppose to bleed into their every day life, into their work and friendship. What was he _doing?_

"Yeah, sorry," Harry whispered, mortified. 

He turned back to Kingsley and tried to focus. But he couldn't. He couldn't relax. Ron was very tense next to him too. 

After a few minutes, Ron gritted out, "Damn you," and nuzzled into Harry's ear, breathing unsteadily. 

Harry shuddered, his eyes slipping shut and his mouth falling slack as Ron's tongue licked his earlobe. Harry turned his head, seeking Ron's mouth blindly and gasping when he finally found it. Fuck, this was madness. They were in a room full of people. They could be discovered kissing any moment now, but Harry couldn't pull away to save his life. 

"Ron," he whispered hoarsely, peppering Ron's jaw with kisses as he worked his way down Ron's neck. 

The hall erupted into outcries again. 

Harry wrenched himself away so forcefully that he knocked his quill and ink pot onto the floor. The sound of the breaking glass was distinct enough that a few aurors in front of them turned around, and it made Harry's throat close up. 

Blind panic rose in his chest when he realized what they had been doing. In a public place, in a room full of people. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

___________________________________________________________

As he wrapped up his work day, Harry could hardly focus. Merlin and Morgana, he couldn't believe what had happened earlier that day. He must be losing his marbles. Ron warned him to stop behaving like a love sick puppy, but ultimately obliged him, as always. Fuck, he was pathetic. Pathetic and _needy._ Harry thought morosely that it probably all stemmed in from a childhood without any love at all. Ron was the first to show him what it felt like to be cared for. He knew his best mate would do anything for him, even call off the wedding of his dreams, and Harry was taking advantage of that. 

Harry returned promptly from work at 5pm in an effort to avoid Ron at the gym and collect himself. 

Ron was pacing in the living room. He really couldn't face him right now, but he was already spotted as the floo opened up right to it. 

Ron was in his fitted grey work trousers and a white button down shirt. The top three buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up exposing his veiny forearms. Harry felt the desire that had been simmering in his blood all day erupt into a sudden inferno. They just stared at each other in silence. Desperate for a distraction, Harry began removing his outer robes as Ron watched him like a hawk. 

"Right..." Harry said. 

"Harry, we need to talk." 

Harry didn't want to talk. What would he say? Sorry I'm so needy? He'd already said that. He didn't think he could stomach another conversation about his bloody wedding. Besides, it took two! This wasn't only his fault and he wasn't in the mood to hear it. He strode over to Ron and with shaky hands, started unbuttoning his shirt. 

"Can we not?" He looked Ron in the eye. "I want to suck your cock. And then I want you to fuck me." 

Ron was still. His pupils were so blown that Harry could barely even see the blue irises anymore. 

He yanked Harry to him. 

They didn't make it to the bedroom. They did it right there, on the carpet of their living room, surrounded by pictures of Ron's fiancé. 

It wasn't nice sex. It was rough and brutal. Ron entered him with little prep. He held Harry down and fucked him hard. Harry had a thought as Ron drove into him mercilessly, Ron would never fuck Hermione like this. The sex made him feel...frustrated, raw, and deeply unsatisfied, even after the spectacular orgasm that had him shuddering and digging his fingers into Ron's bare back. 

Afterwards, Ron said into his neck, "We'll have to get rid of the carpet now. And I liked this carpet. This is all your fault." His voice was still raspy and a little dazed. "Your fault." His lips were moving heatedly down the length of Harry's neck. Ron sucked hard on the skin above his pulse. 

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, fighting the lump in his throat, knowing full well Ron wasn't talking about the carpet. He opened them and let his hands fall from Ron's back to his sides. "Get off me." 

Ron didn't move, sinking his teeth into his skin. It hurt. Merlin, did it hurt. 

"Get out of me," Harry whispered. 

When Ron didn't move, Harry shoved him off and got to his feet, a little unsteadily. His body hurt. He didn't mind being fucked with little prep-he loved it rough-but, for some reason, this time he felt more bruised than he physically was. Desperate for a distraction, he began gathering his clothes. He was shaking as he redressed, wrestling with the buttons of his shirt, his fingers clumsy. It took several tries to get the first few pushed through their holes. 

Ron pushed Harry's hands away and started buttoning up his shirt. Of course, _his_ fingers weren't clumsy. Harry watched his long fingers make quick work of it in silence. The silence was a living, heavy weight pressing on his chest. Harry hated it and hated Ron.

He needed a shower, feeling more disgusting than usual after sex.

"Thanks," Harry said politely. He turned quickly to go to his room, but Ron caught his arm. 

"Let go!" Harry didn't mean to yell, but he did. 

Ron immediately let go, his eyebrows furrowed with confusion. 

"Close the floo on your way out." 

Harry shut the door behind him and sank to the floor, feeling dirty, used, and more than a little hopeless. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? Should I continue? Is it getting boring or do you want more?
> 
> PLEASE kudos and/or comment if I should write more.


End file.
